There is a musician a couple of houses down who tells me of love stories and epic battles. In my mind he is a man whose soul escapes to paint moments in time. His instrument is a violin and his music is an exquisite potion. I imagine him as a montage of beauty and betrayal, anticipation and fate, wrapped in a heartbeat and bones. I hear him become his instrument as emotion fills the space between us. His entire existence mixed with exciting crescendo and devastating diminuendo.
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