“Stop dreaming and start living Peter.”
The thought echoed in my mind like a bonefire on a cold desert night. It was already there on music sheets that I composed. But to have someone play the notes and actuallying hearing it instead of imagining the music is overwhelming.
On any other giving time, I would’ve ignored it, but that night. All the conditions are met to make me open my mind to thoughts.
They float around every corner of my thought… I can’t shake it off, or shut it away.
What comes out of the wound, when there’s no more blood in you?