Story and digital collage by Luis Paredes
Dorin’s hands are dark as oak bark and just as furrowed. His long, gnarled fingers hover over the piano’s keys. Tonight’s crowd is thick with aficionados eager for a jazz fix. And he’s more than happy to play dealer as he gets something in return – their imaginations.
His charmed tunes entrance listeners, open their minds, and expose their souls. Dorin licks his lips and cracks his knuckles, anticipating the sweet dollops of creative marrow the invisible tentacles on his back will pluck from his oblivious fans.
Dorin gazes at the audience and smiles: “Tonight is going to be a feast!”