Cold hands once more but that isn’t going to stop me from moving at some sort of speed that I may or may not consider as acceptable. I’m guided by the sounds and rhythms and maybe, just maybe I’ll slowly detach a little and find myself immersed in them once more.
Maybe I’ll slowly peel back and unravel until I am little more than a fine stretch of some sort of line and be brought into the waves of sound as they caress what was once my ears. I will become just as much a part of the music as the music is just as much a part of me.
It’ll keep spreading out and I will spread out with it, stretching an infinite length to reach an infinite distance toward a location far beyond what is visible and possible. The sounds will mix and detach and reattach and sway and swing and all those other things as it slowly becomes something so much more expressing so much less, yet still expressing something far greater than what is imaginable.
It continues to spread and change things and absorb them into its body and turn everything into sounds and sources of sounds. It builds rhythms and melodies and removes all that was so that it can become all that is.
It progresses and does not stop. There is no stopping it, for it has no tangible form and as such it is free to spread onward and outward rather than inward. However, as is the way of things, slowly it will slow down and eventually it may even retract. It will find what it is that needs to be found and once that has occurred, it will finally come to a halt and retreat back to its original form, creating new music and new sounds along the way.
As this happen it will lead to a reconstruction of everything that it absorbed. It will return things back to how they were simply because it never truly destroyed them, but merely absorbed what they were in order to create and expand this sound wave. It has no need to diminish what they were into pure nothingness.
As it goes, all is gradually restored and the sounds shrink and return to their rightful places. I am no longer stretched along and slow reforming myself. It takes a while, but eventually all is restored and the sound is back to its source, and it is as though no time had passed and nothing had changed.
Time itself had stretched out so as to accommodate the journey and everything was along for the ride, regardless of how much it did or did not want to be a part of it. All seems unaware of what happened, as am I, for I just sit here and listen to music and let myself be carried away on a journey. I did little else and I knew not what happened. All I know is that I heard music.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:21:31
Could’ve been faster. Could’ve been more flowing.
I was thinking far too much about what I was writing and I think the text suffered much more for different reasons than usual.
Written at home.