While my guitar gently weeps

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I look at the world and I notice it’s turning
While my guitar gently weeps

Jan. Watercolour on Canson Héritage cold-pressed paper, 21×30 cm.

Two weeks ago, my brother died of cancer.
We made music together for twenty-seven years. I still can’t believe I will never see him again, sing with him, and cut out silly little things with typos from newspapers to send him on postcards.

They played “While my guitar gently weeps” at his funeral.

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