There may be an only moment, but there’s very few folks in focus; not the first, not the last, and certainly not the least. As I remembered what the Madman once asked me: “Son, tell me as a friend, what’s in a name?” One night in one of those many bars and saloons where the jukebox plays the blues in the night, where the peasant sits crying in his wine, and if you look around you can see they are all giving time like in K...
