the mirror of music

I am building up my dreamscape. It consists of a house mostly, for I am not ready to work on a world first. It will be inside a regular sphere colored with all the nice books and movies I like. But it is translucent still. So when I move the curtains I can see through, while you cannot see me. There are no colors inside the sphere though; instead there is music all the time. Right now, right now, I am playing Steve Roach, his Structures from Silence, as a kind of break from all the noise. When the music breaks through, as it does when after the atoms of noise when spread also converge and splice to meet the person. Then I rush to the pool and keep my head under the water, like that bird under the sand and there is the more perfect silence in its death and clinging softness on my ears.

This minute I realize the colors. But I cannot dream my sphere, so I grant this world hues, so light streams to cover objects with a lighty color light. The home called the Moon is really so very tall, anyone can tell. Before I can enter, instead of a verandah I wait outside for the smell to enter you, that is the guest’s welcome. The smell is an invisible sketch pen, marking me with the right depth for me to enter the Moon and like it. Else I will turn to ice, and not be able to cry. Prepared, enter.