I’m starting to rediscover my love for instrumentals.
To hear the sound of strings on wood, of flutes uplifting one unto joyous heights, of the deep timbre of the piano, creating a forceful melody, to the triumphant sounds of the bow against the violin strings…
I love music, I love the emotions they evoke, the pure sounds they emit, the simple purity of it all.
I love the sound of wind blowing through the leaves, creating a rustling that feels crisp and alive.
I love the sound rain makes when it falls.
I love the sound of a hot sun… although there is no sound, but sensation.
The exquisiteness of it all, the sensuality, the wonder of being alive… There is no reason, no use for words. Music expresses more sincerely, more directly, more purely what we beg to express via words. If a picture paints a thousand words, music tells a complete story. It’s a complement to an emotion, the strength of a soul, the joyful bondage that brings humanity together.
The hopeful strings that binds all those who hear it together, as humans. When music is involved… everything fades away, stripped to its bare essentials. The plaintive call of mercy, the jealous rage, the forlorn cry of betrayal… Music underscores and emphasises all these, for without it, nothing is true.
From the first note of a song, to the end… it lives. When expressed sincerely… it lives.
Music, more than anything else… simply is.