One of my favorite jazz pieces, it is hard not to stop whatever you are doing, close your eyes and drown in that trumpet that slowly fills your senses with that wet explosion of feelings from old times, the reborn of a 4 minutes universe where time stretches indefinitely and the space shrinks enough so I can be there, smelling the cigarettes and watching those dim lights engulf the mass of moving feet and heads, some smiling, looking back at their past, motionless, melancholy flowing from the touch of a hand on a table, and Davis in the corner of my room dying again in that last note of ecstasy.