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Summer Afternoon Blues

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Lorne remembers the first time he heard a human sing properly, like it was yesterday. Live and unaccompanied, no audience, no augmentation, just singing for the joy of it.

Since arriving in LA he'd immersed himself in culture, especially music, sampling every variety and genre he could get hold of without prejudice or preconception. He'd heard some of the finest singers and musicians in the world and revelled in their music but they had nothing on that moment. A long corridor and an apartment door propped open, a young man singing as he painted a room. He wasn't much of a singer, but he'd opened his heart into the song and Lorne could see his whole life laid out in front of him. The man's hopes and fears for his unborn child, the trials and tribulations they'd face, the small tragedies and great joys that would befall them all clear as day between the words of the song.

In time Lorne would refine the art of reading people's destinies and dreams when they sang but he can still remember every detail of that first insight. No revelation more detailed, nor future clearer. No other song has ever sounded so sweet.