[l1]I[/l1] painted one side of the white paper liner: a walled pond in a garden with three paths approaching and crossing from different directions; all very Seussian and psychedelic.
King Crimson’s music is not an acquired taste. I don’t think it’s possible to acquire it. Your DNA connects with it instantly or you never will. Feeling compelled to paint the liner is a symptom. Continue reading “Strange Wonderful Crimson King”