Corey Mwamba



There was a point, just before the end of college, where the hills that surrounded my mood had evolved into mountains. I did not know how to choose. The not knowing added granite, basalt. In this valley, I sought refuge in the library. The array of plastic cases carried iron, silts of memory. I did not know how to choose. My hand moved towards one of an artist I had discounted before1. I did not know how to choose. I sought refuge in my room and filled it with a sound. Three men; one near the end of his, knowing and communicating before his eventual silence. My mood looked up from the valley and saw only trees, and sun. From that point, I knew that I did not know how to choose. So I learned how to pay attention instead.

  1. Thelonious Monk, The London Collection: Volume Two (Black Lion, 1988) [accessed 8 December 2017]. 

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