Lost in Simplicity
Sometimes I catch a sliver of a phrase that contains within it a shard of true insight both innocent and intentional. It could be from a book, A song, an animated film, a graphic novel, someone on the street, or an unexpected observation from my rapidly unraveling mind.
Regardless of the source, with each fragment a tiny piece of an infinitely overwhelming puzzle becomes imperceptibly clearer. It is melancholy of the purest sort, consuming and unapologetic in demanding my remaining attention. The simple beauty of an incomprehensible melody sung in hauntingly sweet Latin conveys to me another missing remnant, while bawdy drunken laughter flush with enjoyment and friendship contribute to the same developing canvas. Those slashes of pigment, echoes of music past and present, phrases, emotions, all collected by senses innumerable and unattributed accumulate piecemeal, fabricating an imperative appealing desperately for understanding.