Wednesday, November 09, 2016

We were on a trip somewhere, the three of us. We visited an old house on a hill, then watch a film of it being deliberately destroyed. It rolled down the hill on some kind of trailer, gathered up some other structures in its path, and crashed on the other side of the street, partly falling into a lake. There were a couple of ancient bluegrass musicians at this house, or in this film. One played the guitar beautifully, remarkably well for his age.