Danny Saucedo

In his latter years of summer, Danny was my mentor
His 12-track compact disc of acoustic veiled gems would take me to a land of
Sweaty papers also drenched with art
Never shying away from summer love, summer drama, summer angst, etc.
In this world of down-to-Earth fantasies, camp wasn’t just life
Camp was a foundation for the beautifully unrealistic
Bards squatting around random tall trees
Bards nonchalantly assuming that the flies around them are plain nonbelievers
Bards who were chosen by thirteen Mediterranean ghosts
To reconnect the vicinity to life upon a stage
Since the days of Danny, there have been a scarcity of bards
But a privileged few neglect the downfall and carry on toward the sunrise.


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