THE BAND.

Winter blues sweep alongside the narrow gravel path, its notes in a non-chalent melody flow. I stood there watching them, gazing at the stars above their heads shining like halos while their wings flutters by. My eyes glaze over at each of their fingers, one by one strumming the strings of the cellos, the guitars and the bass. Pluck, pluck, pluck, I hum the tune alongside with them. Tapping my foot with the gravel swiping upwards to the soles of my polished black shoes, my hands clapping against my thighs and my head gently bobbing up and down to the medium paced rhythm.

Everyone was doing the same.

I remembered that day, when I was a mere child of 5 years, it was the first piece of music that I heard. The piece of music flowed through my mind, like a stream of water running down from its source, whooshing past the trees, past the deers and me. 

I’ve laid down here for a while now, against the river bank, the damp chocolate soil mixed into my hair. I close my eyes and let the sun beat against my face. I see the light from far beyond, and I walk towards it. 

I am in it now. I can finally find peace here. The rhythm of the jazz music beats against my ears, luring me straight into it, and the band members smiles at me, ushering for me to come in. I let go of my past and into this heavenly light of the future. 

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