A dance, a pop song.

A symphony.

Only a fool believes that a perfect relationship lacks arguments and fights.

I've always hated Mozart. I don't like his work and I personally believe that he was just a fraud. Surprisingly, however, as I grow older I always seem to picture his work along the road. His orchestra plays vividly in the background as life passes by, and even though I never learned how to read music sheets, I choose to believe that I can follow the keys.

The slams and pitches, the unfinished C minor, the low notes and monotones that, during which, some people unwillingly fall asleep; and the high notes that wake them up from their dreams about watching a ballet about Bo Peep and her cattle in an empty theater, the high notes that drive your inner rage into salvation. You sit back up and stare at the maestro, discharging your anger, waiting for your turn to speak and cry and shout, only to find another low note that begs you to take a deep and cleansing breath, to ease your way back into your dream about a sweet girl and a meadow filled with love.

That entire piece… was salvation.

Mozart was a genius.

The high notes and the low notes, that's what life is all about; the ingredients to a perfect relationship that I choose to hold on to forever.

An endurance classic.

Life.

Posted by Яαgιи Яαvєи on Monday, October 09, 2006 at 10/09/2006 01:41:00 AM | Permalink