Bill (Mr. Warshal, Faz?) looked absolutely lost among the guitar inventory. He kept looking for other musical options randomly raising them in questions; Why not a flute? What about a saxophone or a clarinet? What about the mandolin? How about the violin?
You work through your head,
But it leaves you numb instead,
Sometimes your kindness stops showing,
And you feel separate and apart,
As if something turned off your heart,
And your mind like cut grass has stopped growing.
A consuming thought in your head: that’s where writing a book begins. Writing a book involves a compulsion, a driving need to demonstrate what happens when a person or persons are seized with a need to act.