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“Pavarotti is dead and the streets are full of arias, my brother. Every window a tenor leans, there are sopranos in the olive branches. And all across the globe the world turns to crescendos.” — Sean Thomas Dougherty
Pavarotti is dead and the streets are full of arias,
my brother. Every window a tenor leans,
there are sopranos in the olive branches.
And all across the globe the world
turns to crescendos.