Edward Anderson is a wooden match struck in a hay strewn boxcar. Sputtering flame lights the faces of the men rocking against the walls, putting colour in their eyes, reflecting the road dust in their hair, drawing out their voices - their stories. As the fire crawls down the square stem of the match, close to the fingers that hold it, warming the tips, lighting the palm, we feel something real, and we also know that the dying wooden match is still capable of burning the place down.
introduction to Feels Like Rain
also read ......http://woodyhaut.blogspot.co.uk/2017/07/depression-blues-edward-anderson.html