#numberstation

[gentrigger]

"I'm a baby chick I suppose… I imprinted on you when I woke up. When you're around the sounds in my head aren't a bother since I understand what I have to do clearly. It's to be right here."

[noworldconcerto]

Years ago me and S would spend whole evenings listening to him. Every now and then there are nights where I think of Arik, like it came with the wind, his voice. and it helps me. השדרות, העיר והלילה הזה The boulevards, the city, and this night.

[dwudles-art]

A collaborative piece between the incredibly talented @numbersstation and myself

[noworldconcerto]

old

owled, how owled you are that i must reach my hands across moonviewings  my eyelids could cover too, my chest,  at thought of the day when  i am secluded in the second mouth and you join the moon 

[noworldconcerto]

in recent days I have been visitor to a garden of private sleep in a house where number 4 means; luck now that Thought can be separated from its envelope, into beams of light of firetrucks, (running through the dark city)

[noworldconcerto]

finding pivot

Slightly off center there is always another center

[noworldconcerto]

In my days here thus far, I have spent so much of my time listening for music. the listening for music, the listening for that – which will fill, one day, this white noise (a Rauschen).

I’ve worn my red lipstick everyday, on the train, sitting on one of the nice benches at (…), sitting in, waiting for; in some trials at looking pretty (smelling good, too), for when this music intervenes / glides through - incus, malleus, stapes.

Of course I would not imagine this intervention to come of my own doing. this divine hum, over which, to which, so plenty a dream have sailed.

I do not know this music yet, but imagined very well the drowning of everything else, and it sustaining momentarily here )in my head( then extending downwards undiluted. (-and the cherubs call all around! In me, beside me!)

Oh it sure hurts me to ask. if this music were only to be heard once, or not at all, or in some variation not meant for me, never was: would I still have gone on a journey?

[noworldconcerto]

i do not understand myself or why i can never merge with the common tide of others for long enough. why i want so often to be alone, why i cannot respond or speak, when I know full well the cloudlets which carry meaningful vapour for my heart only arise from others.