she listens.
the world turns into a fluid pool, colours and borders running together, blurring, yet sharpening. another viewpoint takes over and the girl is lost in the music. it takes her places, shows her things her eyes have never seen. she reaches out and touches the picturesque tapestry in front of her.
it's gone. the track clicks off. but the imprint is fresh in her mind.
the girl removes her earphones and thinks. her mind brings her back to the concepts. she thinks about what he said. the pictures he painted in her mind.
why hadn't she seen that before?
she listens again, and the images return. this time she studies them carefully. the fine detail, crafted by a master in his field. the poetry, the symmetry, the parallels he drew. awestruck, the girl enjoys the liquid smooth visions, allowing them to glide silently over her, to seep in through her pores.
every time she repeats the song, she sees a whole new depth. the lines get thicker, bolder, clearer, and more defined.
it consumes her, clings to her being. the amazing symbiosis of the music and the girl was revolutionary. the music fed her soul, her character, her personality.
and in turn, the girl grew around the music. in the dark nights it stayed bright. on rainy saturdays it kept her dry. the music raised her, taught her, nutured her.
the girl relied on the music. the music relied on the girl.
it was love.
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