(i've written bits about this before, but i still don't quite have it in my minds grip.)
i'm listening to Beethoven's Piano Sonato No. 30 in E Major (particularly the third movement) and i'm imagining him with the legs sawn off a piano and his face pressed to the same ground as the piano sits. "beethoven wasn't born deaf"
it's so beautiful it almost hurts my heart. how deeply beethoven must have felt. what must it have been like to have borne these notes in his heart - so simple, so pure and so poignant.
real music is such a mysterious and profoundly beautiful thing in my ears. i don't even fully understand it. i can only say that when i really hear it, when it really pierces beyond my thoughts to unconscious, it grabs me. and i feel it.
what a gift, music is. what a gift is the ability to experience it. there is nothing else like it.
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