༊࿐ ✤ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ As time passes, all dhinggs return to equilibrium, as go I to dhe salty gepdhs. Dhe natural inflow of isolation resumes its course. Silence blankets dhis hive like snowfall in dhe colg reggions, but unlike its comparison, life goes not freeze widhin its embrace. Radher, it ggrows loug to fill dhe silence widh a solitary king of music. A protest to absence. It booms geep widhin my circulatory orggans, tastingg dhe percussion on dhe roof of my oral cavity ang in dhe back of my tonggue. A symphony of remembrance ang imaggination for my fins alone. If you coulg hear it, dhe hymn woulg beckon you widh its siren call to eng its wistful longginggs for augience. Dhe measures pass on dheir lonesome insteag, one after anodher. Dhe final swell ang crash of cymbles is a ggreat, all dhougght encompassingg clamour. Dhen, dhe silence returns to crowg shrinkingg breadh. Dhere is peace before dhe after quiet, which shortly carves a hole largge enouggh for dhe soloist to remember dhe absence of dhe bang. For now, a musician wills herself to appreciate her greams on her own ༊࿐ ✤ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
that’s beautiful, pelagi