There’s such terrifying beauty in song. Terrifying, like when you make yourself completely vulnerable to a girl, when you allow her to level you with nothing more than a glance. It’s strange to think that these tiny waves of vibration in the air can become something so cataclysmic within me. That this sonic phenomenon can so beautifully capture what words have failed to. The people that created this music, did they feel as I feel? Did they hear what they were doing? Did they think of me, when they composed these pieces? Or is my reaction unique to me? Is it something only I can understand? Is that how these things are meant to be? It’s frightening to think how profoundly I am moved by something that is composed of little more than pitches bouncing about in the air. To think how those pitches can speak to me, how I can hear words that are never said. I hear songs that are winter to me, I hear songs that are my individual friends, I hear songs that are my loves. I hear the sun, I hear the sky, I hear the earth. I hear humanity in these sounds. I hear myself in songs so intimate, I cannot tell if the sounds come from within or outside.