B-Log

The pull is inexplicably strange.  The way music can creep inside through the crevices of your being. Where does it work on you? Does the music enliven the dormant past, which you have kept lidded so right, so tight, that you thought will never be stirred awake ? How does it still you down when you are up and about ?  How does it let you drop the book and look skywards? How does it let you freeze your eyes on the water and turn the fish insignificant ? How does it takes the drive over from your hands and erase the scenes around ?  When did you loosen the grip on the magazine and shift your perspective to that musicful nowhere? What was on your mind when you floated adrift on the piano notes and sailed away to the flowery hell?  How did it soothe the fracas? Present you with a gift, a pastless future all somber? What was that feel of the unspoken which ushered you into a trance when you were walking down the hill? What tugs your guts ? How does it nullify you and recore y