The Fractal Echoes of a Blind Man's Song
The basement bar in the French Quarter was a series of nested rooms, each one a mirror of the other, stretching infinitely downward into the damp earth of New Orleans. Ellis Johnson sat at the center of this fractal, his fingers dancing across the piano keys in patterns that repeated and diverged. To the casual observer, he was playing a blues song. To Ellis, he was constructing a cathedral of...
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