I was looking for someplace to store all the things I was feeling - the friction, the contradictions, the unmerciful truth - but my heart, my soul, my eyes and ears and even my toes were locking their doors. They wouldn't let me in. For safety reasons. I had no choice but to throw the feelings away.
Tiffanie DeBartoloThe music defied classification. If I had been writing a review of the show, I would have labeled it progressive, guitar-driven rock โnโ roll. But the guitars made sounds guitars didnโt always make. Symphonic sounds. Sacred sounds. The music dug in so deep you didnโt hear it so much as feel it, reminding me of a dream I used to have when I was a kid, where I would be standing on a street corner, I would jump into the air, flap my arms, and soar up into the sky. Thatโs the only way I could describe the music. It was the sonic equivalent of flight.
Tiffanie DeBartoloI took a closer look. Jesus had piercing blue eyes, dark hair that hung in a flawless mess, his body was emaciated and taut, his hands and feet dripped with blood, and nothing but a gauzy loincloth hid what looked like a nice package underneath. โSexy,โ I said. โHe looks like a rock star.
Tiffanie DeBartolo