Guitarrista’s Lament — Part 3

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the time the following night came, the lure of the guitar overcame my stubborn apprehension and I headed south.

Music seemed to play faintly in the air. It was so quiet that I was not sure it was really there, or in my mind. Whichever it was, I pushed towards it.

Only after I was sure that the lights of Coiyaba would be gone did I turn back and look at the darkness stretched out…