The headline above might just as well run as: racing with roots and rhythms–another little improv, serving as intro. So–while I'm a man of some convictions, I have no blood brother/s in the kingdom of this world. In brief, as the only son of a short man (who was himself the only son of an even shorter man) this would have been impossible. But I'm not complaining, as, besides my own large brood of six, which includes two boys, I've met many brothers on el camino de la vida.
Some have shuffled on but we survivors are still waiting on Godot.Raceless and rootless, rather than digging down (not advisable anyway for a man with lower back problems) I've always preferred going sideways, along the rhizomes (horizontal roots) and songlines I encounter at the epiphany of the crossroads.
Over the past couple of weeks I've been reunited with several of my brothers in life. First there was Vlad the Imbiber, the only other member of our self-created Boys from Odessa Club, formed spontaneously in downtime at the St Lucia Jazz Festival back in the days when you could still hear some jazz there.
http://www.guardian.co.tt/digital/new-members