It’s three A.M. To my left, the sweet, mournful sounds of twin fiddles echo through the air. On my right, a banjo’s dull plunk reminds me I’m alive and breathing. I strum a guitar chord I’ve learned for the first time …
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It’s three A.M. To my left, the sweet, mournful sounds of twin fiddles echo through the air. On my right, a banjo’s dull plunk reminds me I’m alive and breathing. I strum a guitar chord I’ve learned for the first time … |
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