Music creates thoughts. Music also obviates need for thinking . It rises from somewhere I wish knew could be named. The effects that music in different hues can create varies, differs. Yet, sadly, it also depends on the external nature of our existence at that particular point in time.
We are the creatures of circular time. We are the figures chained to memory and sadness.
Sometimes the oppression is painful. Sometimes the pain of this pain is unbearable. Sometimes even music too is so unmusical. Sometimes silence is just such reward. What are we thus, changing chimeras in this unriotous passage from music to unmusic?
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