With the strokes of the piano coinciding with the beats of my heart…
Freedom feels like the seams of a thousand pen lines tracing into one. Their meaning, syntax, their rhythm become one
History becomes the past and singing off key just to get into it is the beginning of it all.
Going is the beginning.
Watch someone strum a single string of a guitar and feel the reverberation of it in your spine.
I’m no musician but I can feel.
It all comes in a wave and a crescendo. With a trough in between. Never in the same order, but something surprising. Something enthralling.