À PROPOS DE LA RADIO
In that pub decorated wall-to-wall with glitter and memories at the gateway to the highlands, we once found an entire wall of old CDs in the smoking room, collections from several generations, patiently lined up, plus a beat-up player. Shyly at first, soon by the armload we took the music down from the shelf and remembered happily, or we'd never heard it before and delighted in wonders, we showed each other around while the ashtrays filled up, more people came and went. Eventually we stopped drinking schnaps and switched to tea, some kind motorist drove us home later, and so we lay down and slept long into the evening.
