…And watches it throw not tears but light upon the room.
Flickering flame, dancing name, playful and bleak and right up Mr. Oud’s alley.
The wording is different, the tone flippant, and the wonder whether this is Mr. Oud at all fully realized.
Perhaps that is his tell-tale calling card, if the trail of oud wasn’t enough.
Anyone can wear oud – few can pull it off with the style and panache of Mr. O himself.
The trails of others have come before him, and will remain long after him.
Legacies evolve, families diminish, friends fade…
Mr. Oud remains elusive to remain alive.
To be hidden is to be safe.
To be shrouded in candlelight is something else…
… and again, he is gone.
