So long, Thin White Duke.

I am feeling sadness of an “unexpected” depth at David Bowie‘s passing. Please don’t call me cynical, because if it’s true, it’s a master stroke DIRECT FROM A MASTER’S HAND: to orchestrate a record release–a record, as I understand, that takes some chances–with one’s own passing. Even if that’s an illusion, which it almost surely is (but how did he keep his illness under such careful wraps?), it does justice to everything he was. And maybe that is where my smiling sadness is coming from. What an exit.

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