Bee’s sense the world through electromagnetic waves.

What does they see? What do they know?

Music moves through time. Time is how the mind interprets a certain kind of movement.

The world we see is a hallucination, tethered to our ego. In ways I’ll never really understand, my mind prioritizes a futile attempt at survival over a true understanding of reality.

All of this is unsatisfactory.

The music starts chaotically. Deep notes resonate. Melody’s flutter in and out of existence. Evoking chaos – but chaos does not sound this good.

The underlying dissidence mirrors the unsettled feeling that permeates my life. Only better, because it seems to make sense, it seems to be beautiful. Music only exists in time, but it doesn’t have to be a consistent monotonous beat.

It can swing, and more… time can unwind. Perhaps even your ego can unwind, if only a little. Coming into harmony, then falling apart, then coming together, and falling apart.

None of this is quite satisfactory. There is no ground to stand on. It is the perfect place to start.

There is relief in having this unsatisfactoryness acknowledged.

On and on. It says everything. It says nothing. It melds into something else. Says something else that is also everything. It is beyond words.

And out of the primordial jam comes Feel like a Stranger.


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