12 de enero

"what a strange, wondrous thing, music. at last the chattering mind is silenced. no past to regret, no future to worry about, no more frantic knitting of words and thoughts. only a beautiful, soaring nonsense. sound -made pleasing and intelligible through melody, rhythm, harmony and counterpoint- becomes our thinking. the grunting of language and the drudgery of semiotics is left behind. music is a bird's answer to the noise and heaviness of words".
-yann martel (the time i heard the private donald j. rankin string concerto with one discordant violin, by the american composer john morton)

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sabado 13 de enero

the pale yet bright blue sky is scattered with kites like tropical fish swimming in clear, shallow, ocean waters. of the most amazing colours and combinations of colours they dart, twirl, stay still, drop, group and separate following the wind and the wishes of oh so subtle movements of small fingers in children's hands. then my mind shifts attention and soars up and away like a kite whose string has suddenly snapped and is now at the mercy of the winds. some thoughts are carried across the desert, way beyond pakistan, as they often do in the days before one travels, beginning to coalesce in some far-away lands, where the body is to follow.