Maybe it was the wine.
He didn’t drink much and a little wine went right to his head. Whatever it was he was humming songs and shedding soft, self-serving tears, and seeing Technicolor things that touched his weary heart.
Jessica Lange, shimmering in waves of luminescent white, was smiling patiently, alluringly, inscrutably. Emmylou Harris, gloriously angelic and thankfully earthbound, was singing sad songs that didn’t make him cry.
And there was dancing…lots of dancing…and sex and laughter, sweet life and sweet death, lasting truth and lingering lies…visions of the future, the past, and all that jazz.
Maybe it was a dream bleeding into the waking world, mixing the magical and mundane in the fevered imagination of a poor mortal fool.
Maybe it was it just a movie, an artful mix of fiction and reality carefully crafted to stimulate the senses and draw emotion out of playacting.
Maybe it was the wine.
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