Aug 28, 2015
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Note left for my ego one foggy morning.
I don't think at all sometimes, it feels like there's someone else in my head, crawling and moaning and thinking instead of me. Maybe he is an illusion inside my head, maybe I strayed too much but this thoughts keep me real. Keep me tangible, yet it feels so empty like insects have eaten it all up. Kafkian insects. It's a metamorphosis.
You said there must be more to life than this. How much more do you want?
Apart from the fact that it's a very catchy tune, its also an example of orchestra music that is relatively popular. Feels good that classical music with some advancements has its place among the masses.
Power Outage
I'm full of fire. We're all in the asphalt cracks. Made of wood, want to live deliberately. Buried under the traffic and pizza boxes' stacks. With the eyelids shut striving for liberty.
(Kirill Isaev)