SXSW: Recovery

Photo by Daniel Morrison
The Sunday night after SXSW never fails to be a weird experience. Although you are dog-tired, and back in your own bed, you can't sleep. A phantasmagoria of sights and sounds from the past few days runs through mind on a reel that seems to have no end.
You remember short conversations with old friends, most of whom you see too briefly to reconnect with, the hissing sound of ambient cymbal wash that bathes East Sixth Street nearly continuously for 100 or so hours, the peaceful interludes as you cross Town Lake on the Congress Street Bridge, the rickety racket of Austin's booming grackle population...





1 comment(s) / Post a Comment































