Remember that battered piano room at the Student Union at ASU. The notes always a welcome lesson to the tune of the day. The moments seemed to linger like in no other place, in a darkened comfort from the desert sun they hung – musky in the air. Full and soft. Only a bit like the fine arts building just to the west – as dusk slowly descended, and that one student full of passion and sorrow practiced playing his heart’s jazz in a sax of sound echoing from the acoustics of the jutting sharp-edged building that seemed to emerge in response to such unknown systems of hidden machinery timed to rise in response, instant and invisible, just to hit that note’s point of perfection. I remember something of loneliness, some lingering bittersweet flavor – but the tender loveliness and passionate anguish of those moments magnificence will resonate forever in my memory.