Bohemian Rhapsody was released forty years ago today. (And of course, there’s this.) The music (but the term music hardly does it justice) papered the inside of my head. And the images are still there, undimmed, today. By listening to it, just by turning up the volume and closing my eyes, I can travel in time. But, forty years.
Folks…
We are not supposed to be talking about this. We’re supposed — I am supposed — to be talking about trains out of Italy and mountains in Switzerland and Alpen Hütte.
I promise. I’ll get right to it. … No escape from reality.