Sound and Song

Recently I've rediscovered my obsession with Indian music. As much as I would like to share the songs I love with certain people, it is impossible. The beauty of the lyrics: the pain, weight and poetry that they carry is something that just cannot be translated. Instead of facebook, skype and the likes, I've been up till 5:00 the past few mornings listening to songs for hours on end, singing them to myself. I am sure my family thinks I've officially lost my mind, but there is something so seductive about living in your mind. The world that these songs create is mine alone by choice and force, since I could not share, even if I tried. Perhaps a scoff that sounds like escapism could ring true, but somehow that's not all there is to it. I feel a constant and enormous gulf between people, my self and strangers alike, as I watch us interact with one another and exist side by side. In this day to day situation, language becomes the fragile thread that connects us. However, just because spoken language is an incredibly fragile facet of being human, doesn't mean it isn't necessary or that it isn't wonderful. Simply that it is an ephemeral thing. Things are said and easily dissolve, become forgotten or misunderstood. Over time, words and promises take on forms of their own, after having walked down roads they never set foot on. We remember words with a weight that creeps more out of our insecurities than the mouth of the person speaking them. When confronted with this type of alternative, to read a poem, or listen to a song and to exist in it, while letting it exist in you is invaluable. There is no need for words because the understanding is deep and complete. It is easy to become lost and engrossed in a world which you create for yourself, void of misunderstanding, because it is inevitably void of people. I am not promoting or condoning it; I am simply acknowledging that aloneness can be enchanting. On this note, here are some pics for you crazy kids: