Now is an inbetween moment, as the day becomes night and storm dissolves the quiet sky. Soon rain will begin falling; soon, unseen behind the clouds, will be starlight. I am sitting in the dark, waiting, and dreaming of French music hidden behind a stack of books, unheard until it was too late - Satie's lonely music, inspired by city rain falling from wider, colder skies than my own.
I love how he had so much silence between his songs. And I love the same thing in people's lives. The faded hopes and unwritten poems. Just because they weren't played out in sound, in muscle and bone, doesn't mean they didn't have a kind of life of their own. They are ghost dreams. Transparencies. Like light falling through a window : not everything is meant to be held. We need silences as much as music in order to be whole.