Truly. Madly. Deeply.
Something about inhaling and exhaling music.
Floating.
Endlessly revolving
In blues and gold,
Like a storm
Being born
Twixt skies and sea,
Or a melody dancing
On cello strings.
That's what Elgar does to me.
You cannot take breath,
Can you?
Look how it glides
Caressing the strings.
Yes, that thing,
You know,
The one they use to play
The cello.
What?
Yes, that's right,
The bow.
Remember that movie?
The one that made me cry
A hundred times.
They played Elgar there
I think.
No, not that one.
The one with the ghost.
The one with Alan Rickman.
Oh yes, Truly madly deeply.
That's the one.
He quoted Neruda there.
And I remember…
Wait,
It did make me cry.
But the music was beautiful.
It made me want to…
Learn to breathe
Properly.
And fall in love with a ghost.
That came true.
I'm surrounded by them.
Drawn to them.
Like memories
Bound to musicians.
Like a storm,
Born
Twixt sky and sea.
Did you know…
Doesn't matter.
Let me just
Inhale the music.
Let it fill me
To the brim.
Never
Letting me go.
Fall down.
Jesus that was profoundly nice.
Beautiful music and writing from a spirit in flight. Completing one another. Like voices in harmony. Like the Magdalene and the Christ. Music tends to open gateways, for the soul to transcend, to cross the nothingness of everyday life and reflect the magic displayed by open minds not yet destroyed by societal norms and demands. Half past ten. Sipping coffee. What could be better than this precise moment…