il rumore del fiore di carta
From the chatter of the kids I hear the bugle playing. A xylophone assists the sadness. It’s almost like they’re soul mates. The nylon strings of a guitar join in. The bugle seems to feel the change. It makes me feel the change. They are all in sync. In rhythm. It’s an equilibrium. The bugle dies out. It knows it has done it’s work. Percussions take over. A bass guitar is heard creeping in the back. The xylophone lingers on. The nylon strings weep. They tell a story not many are familiar with. The beating of the drums is slow, it’s monotonous; but it’s perfect.
The soul search goes on for a while. It breathes into me. I can feel myself breathe a heavy sigh. I know I am not in presence. I am somewhere else, somewhere where I don’t belong. The occasional slides on the bass strings bring my thoughts back, but the monotony of the tune sets me adrift once again. It hits me deep. Deep. It sends a shiver down the spine. The tremolo effect. Perfect presentation. It makes me sway. Thoughts. It reminds me of you. Of my times with you. The tremolo takes over. It presents a psychedelic hue. I know exactly what I am thinking about. The build up.
You taught me a lot. You opened me to new worlds. Worlds I might never be able to close. Worlds I might introduce more people to. But there will always be one thing missing; you.
Mira.
