Fuel Station

I thought last night, I like stopping at service stations, as a bit 'out of fashion in most sections of motorway' isolated, at night, dusk or dawn, when the cold and 'sharp, you feel the wind, time and 'suspended in a travel size, noise, where your life seems to exist outside of that time. A little 'this blog' my service station at night, little used, out-of network paths, and I like for reasons unexplained pass every now and stop, off the crowded highways of facebook, I still feel out of time, out of all these thoughts that are oppressing. The feeling in these moments of pause and 'one that evokes a therapeutic tool, strange how HangDrum, poetry night, silent.

On Air: Manu Delago Elm on A Stone (Hang Drum)