The view from the sky begins it’s decent from the high clouds above New York City, the pale black and white background of the city almost in a very much film Noir. This Corvid of birds flight is something to be admired as she swoops through the city air like a feather on the wind. As she passes by building the sounds of a saxophone can be heard almost like honey words by mermaids of old whom sent sailors to their watery graves fill the night sky. Every single twist and turn has more and more passion put to it as the sounds grow louder and louder, every scene from which is most present is a city of ruin and ill begotten gains. A group of men begin to beat a woman and have their jollies with her passed out body and before things can begin to get any worse the corvid finishes her flight on a roof four blocks from such horrible scenes. Taking a last circular loop around this build of brink and stone, sitting at the corner is this building if you will that erects four stories tall and almost jet black stone brick on all sides. Adorned up the dual street facing sides is the title “Panadora’s Box”. This is a jazz club that is like no other in this city, when it comes to private meetings. This building not too long ago was an apartment complex that was being slummed out to the local drag of society. Upon landing on this roof the saxophone sounds die down slowly and this shadow like image puts one foot upon the edge of the roof and begins to speak to the corvid as if she understood him.
“Hey little one how does the sky hang so long, baby?” He draws upon his cigarette with the cherry being the only light upon his face but not enough to expose his idenity. “All the players are massing together and it will all come to a head one way or another. Do me a slice and make sure they find me first before she finds them”. The figure takes one last drag of his cigarette and flicks it off the roof before he goes back to whaling on his saxophone, with that the corvid takes flight off into a blank black city sky.