Jazz at dusk

I call it a religious road, one car width and no shoulder and a plunge off the edge of the mountain.
Even as a pagan, even with a good driver behind the wheel, I pray, but it was worth it to hear the local musicians and the jazz singer from New Orleans perform at this tiny bar/restaurant. To the right were the rugged Pyrenees, greener than I have ever seen them. Behind the band was the Mediterranean and the village of Collioure.

Although only about 80 people, we knew several, including K., a thalomide baby, beautiful and flamboyant with her red curls and rust skirt and shawl. She has just finished producing her first short film. In between sets we chatted and sipped wine and nibbled on eggplant Catalan and a chickpea salad.

The singer's two little boys, 5 and 7 did what little boys do, ran, hopped, rolled, jumped and pushed but not enough to disturb their mother's performance. Being still just wasn't in their skill sets.

We will go back, but not for the next two weeks. The singer has nodules on her vocal cords and she must balance her time during the season before undergoing surgery.

The musicians instruments wait the end of their break in a jazz at dusk evening.