Years on, your voice, the sound of every angel,
Floats across the room. I am transported.
Teenage again, long hair unruly, shy,
Each chord and note is seared upon my soul.
We slope upon the city green, our hearts
Unwritten, full of hope and aching life.
This moment every mood is new, unopened.
We drink them deeply, dreamers on the hill.

Washing up to the sound of All About Eve. Julianne’s voice was part of the sound track of my formative years, and hearing it tonight I am reminded of how glorious it was and still is.
(30.10.26)

© Ben Quant 2026