Sunday Sentence: Shotgun Lovesongs by Nickolas Butler

Simply put, the best sentence(s) I’ve read this past week, presented out of context and without commentary.

The fiddle players rosined their bows, and the piano player lightly touched the keys, and the bass player made his big fat strings talk in a deep, low voice, and then they exploded—and the music they played was like a giant bucket of water poured over a great tree, fully leaved, the notes dividing and dispersing themselves down, gradually growing smaller and smaller, joyously running, bouncing, flowing down, down, down from leaf to leaf as if racing one another.

Shotgun Lovesongs by Nickolas Butler