[soft morning hours. 06:16] ☁️

And somewhere in the middle of it all—there’s you, audience and player at the same time. Hushed and quiet, astounded and captivated. By the pull of life, of energy building. You play your part, and you become the music.

Then the music grows. Engines rumbling like the deep bass of a cello. Whistling flutes in the form of a warning kettle, an alarm, a shower, or the peep of a blowhorn. Breakfast wafting through the room like the full-bodied sound of a viola.

It’s not quite a crescendo yet, not the full-blown orchestra of rush and life. It’s the gentle strum of strings coaxing people from their dreams. Somebody starts the piano and punctuates each note with a dose of caffeine.

i was eating my heroaca meiji chocolates shaking the tube randomly cuz i was playing CRK and out came these two….

a car almost hit the motorcycle i was riding on 🥲 am okey, just a tiny bit shookt

also thank god my bro’s finally a family man and got a car cuz just thinking about dragging 2 luggages on public transpo again is giving me some bad flashbacks