gritty

Cantautor begins with a song. It seems interesting enough, but it does not sound quite complete yet. The two men struggle to finish the song before “they” need it, and they stumble along words and looking for someone to play the violin solo. With a few cigarettes, some drinks, an expectation for the phone to ring and a kidnapping, they attempt to complete a song that starts off with “Turra, turrita“. Continue Reading →