The time before a restaurant opens is sublime, quiet and anticipatory, full of hope, and surpassed only by the frenzied euphoria an hour later. There is music to the clink of glasses, clank of silverware, pop of cork, and bassline murmur of conversation. There is rhythm to the dash of the servers, the loll of the diners, the sinuous stretch of the one, you know her, that always seems to be falling out of her dress in the middle of a room. The impromptu composition of all of this is our jazz, our evening song. Time to work, time to dance. The feeling begins, and then overwhelms. Give me a kiss and let’s do this again tomorrow night…

–Danny Grosso

Counter-clockwise from lower left:

“Do you really think the authoritarian expansionism will gain a foothold once civilians become war casualties”

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Silently, to herself: “Hmmm… I know these are really dangerous times but this conversation is so much better than the ‘What in the hell is she wearing’ talk that I seemed perpetually dragged into before 2016.”

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“Of course not – not for any extended length of time. Tyrants always lose their grips on power when opposed by a reasonable resistance movement. But it doesn’t take long to destabilize and demoralize institutions. Speaking of which, Isn’t it grand to have this place back open and full of drinkers and diners?”

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“Waitress – another round on your way back, please, but no Russian Vodka this time. I’m hoppin’ mad!

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All three singers, harmonizing: “Don’t turn around, woo hoo hoo… Der Kommissar’s in town, woo hoo hoo… You’re in his eye and you’ll know why, the more you live the faster you will die…”

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Silently, to herself: “I’m soo worried for may family, they are all in Kiev…”

–Danny Grosso