Piano

The length of my fingers reaching as one key stands with another in a melancholic melody of endless certainty that we are devoid to the reasoning that festers in other minds that break against meeting a box of realities made fit for no one...so we think and know that each key holds a voice of its own...and the pauses in between are left to wonder who is actually playing...It is a paradox within an enigma within my eyes that run along tracing every line and makes forms that are outside of them...

Reviews

[Skie blue.]

Just absolutely beautiful.