Consciousness

A fragment I found in an old Obsidian archive and rewrote.

Listening to: Clara Schumann — Nocturne Op. 6 No. 2 (1827 Stein piano) I listened to it through my earbuds with eyes closed, letting every detail of the sound felt in its entirety. This music is profoundly soothing, slowly carrying me to another world—to a house that appeared empty from the outside. Yet inside, I saw a young girl playing a bell. Suddenly, it was as if a faint, illusory sound of a bell seeped into and merged with the music itself. ...

The lonely one. That is what she was called, in a story written by a seasoned solitary. She was called so because no one realized she was lonely— not even herself. The reason was simple: She had yet to define “loneliness.” So the woman decided to embark on a journey. To seek the true meaning of something that had quietly clung to her. She closed her gate softly, So that God wouldn’t notice. ...

A cafe dialogue about loneliness, the dualism of the mind, and a network of mischievous neurons.

One night, long before I knew anything of encrypted texts, little Mus was awakened by the sound of crying, rising and falling like a musical scale. A girl in an ivory-white dress sat in the corner of the room, leaning against the cold wall. Her knees were pulled tight to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, her head bowed, her face hidden in the folds of her arms. In the narrow space between breath and sob, tears fell. ...