as I was walking the drifty road, an old man was sat amid a cluster of turgid elm trees. his stoned demeanor and ragged filthy clothes betrayed that he was a bona-fide jazz accordion player. drawing my burner, I tried to approach the man quietly. but he had seen it all before, and I was counting the lights in a few seconds. but the old man took pity on me, oddly. he picked me up and said plainly \"you're a real L7, you know that?\" The next thing I remember, I was playing Stella in the parking lot of one of the area's seedier gas stations. Music has a funny way of connecting people