An article published on the online version of The Arts Paper. Written by Lucy Gellman.
Framed in the wall-length windows of Neighborhood Music School, Troy Smith was on a roll. Behind him, the human beatbox formerly known as Anton Kot stood at the ready, in case Smith wanted some accompaniment. Smith grinned, and leaned into the freshly penned words.
“My soul is like an ocean,” he began. “Ageless./Full of mystery and wonders./I wonder on what planet will I incarnate next.”
From the middle of the room, someone let out a deep Mmmmmm. Smith’s lines, quiet but steady, bounced off the walls.
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