song of the cricket
if I could, what I feel, think, you would hear it in notes. oblique melody that sweeps through my room and my neighbors can complain. confused sound sequences, the stutter can be me, but what I have to stutter when there is music that makes me think.
had what I thought for two minutes of music, turns out to be 18 minutes of anything that useless but at the moment of consumption was subject to be correct and irreplaceable. been subject ... that sounds Gothic, Celtic, old and wrong.
I'd like to play piano. important: not learning, but to be able to. what happened happened, the keys that are far more than 4 or 5 strings, ... and not even on the 4 or 5, I find my way. lost in the fingerboards.
I listen to the recording and recognize the countless mistakes I've installed and ignored. on top of that gnaws at me feel which is not perceived by musicians as they hear that I've played instead of G sharp. Go .. instead Gisla even with the picture vieod there is no difference, because the music listeners who, in whose opinion I built (as incorrectly), would ignore my tears and think in silence: this is wrong and that is certainly wrong to say it have no sense and you goofed DA, do you know any breaks?
music is sometimes mathematics and logic.
both with me I know not.
I see only cry.
I hear only tears, no matter whether "good" or "bad".
I say it's "the song of the cricket", and when I make music under other names, are error- acceptable. at least I accept herself a little
song of the cricket, which had ordered the elephant, his memories to be backed by an aria, but rather wanted to express her own pain.
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