I’ve never had the pleasure of being wise beyond my years. I’ve pretty much hovered just around where I should be, if not below where I should be in terms of my wisdom. This kid on the other hand, well, I don’t know his test scores or how well he plays Jeoparday, but I saw his fingers move over guitar strings for an hour on the side of a street in New Orleans one day, and I’d say they’re quite a bit older than Mr. Sullivan himself. That makes it scary, in a good way, to think how wise this kid’s fingers are going to be when he’s old enough to have fingers this clever. Wild man, wild.

Quinn, I don’t know how, were, why, when, or what it took to get those blues into your very unscarred fingers, but I’m glad it went in and I’m glad you’re letting it out. Let’s meet up again on a street somewhere when you’ve got a few more scratches on those wonderful fingers, and we’ll do it again…