lusty baritone

Silver woke a bit later than I had, feeding the dogs, brewing coffee, opening blinds, engaging her day as I raised the first notes of my voice, preparing to explore the octaves in majors and minors, in rondos, both low and high, but never falsetto, for I cannot respect the untrue, undiaphragmatic, a child’s voice declaiming falsely by the throat of a man self-emasculated, howls of derision rather the low rumble of a lusty baritone amuses my artistry. And so I sing.

Lord Malinov, Song of Songs

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About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
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