"Standing several feet from the front of the stage, gig reviewer Greg Moskovitch tried to reconcile the room’s thumping mood with the painful signs of Howard’s physical decay. Halfway through the last song, Exit Everything, he noticed something spill from Howard’s lips. He thought it was sweat or saliva. But when Howard wiped his mouth his fingers were covered in blood; it dripped on to the microphone and down to the floor. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever knowingly been this close to a dying man,” Moskovitch later recounted in an article lauding this gaunt, talented, underappreciated songwriter, who like it or not had made heroin chic. Eight weeks later, on December 30, Howard let go of life. He was 50.''
pan, o którym wspominałam w drugim punkcie poprzedniej pracy dla chilkat, bo prosiła.