They'll also tear me apart
The thing I've always loved about music is its ability to bring you back to a place in your memory. And it doesn't leave you watching through the window either. No, it welcomes you in and you're far, far away from where you were just fifteen seconds ago.
And even if it's a sad memory, to be able to stand where I am and know that I've come away from it, makes me a little bit less sad.
It's one of those things that've kept me so in love with music- how it wraps itself around you, fits against your skin, fills your head with a familiar smell and leaves you running your fingers along surfaces you thought you'd forgotten the feel of.
But then, too quickly, I forget what it does to me.
The thing I've always loved about music is its ability to bring you back to a place in your memory. Except, it doesn't always have to be a memory that is your own.
Suddenly I'm an intruder to a memory that is not mine.
And here's the thing I hate about music-
its ability to bring you back to a place without letting you stand on the outside, To watch through the window.
And you're always too far away for me to save.
actors aren't allowed to get lost in a memory. So they fall into a memory with a fishing line attached, and let it float us to a different place. A place that is heartbreakingly close, but not close enough.
But then by then, you're floating.
Your actor is present, which makes your character real.
Oh you are just floating.
"I'm flying," she says, "I'm flying, flying, flying."
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