What you mean for me. My dear violoncelo!

And now, I’m with you again.
You lead my dreams, my future.
You reach my heart, my thoughts.
I get distracted when I touch you.
It's alike a deep meditation.
And you touch me not with your wood body,
but with your voice,
your overtones,
your -marvelous- vibrations.
The path is long, I’m still learning how to touch you in the right way
But I keep going.
I keep seeking the best,
the best bow -ex- pression
bow speed, and so on.

Procrastination

Original link:

"Errands are so effective at killing great projects that a lot of people use them for that purpose. Someone who has decided to write a novel, for example, will suddenly find that the house needs cleaning. People who fail to write novels don't do it by sitting in front of a blank page for days without writing anything. They do it by feeding the cat, going out to buy something they need for their apartment, meeting a friend for coffee, checking email. "I don't have time to work," they say. And they don't; they've made sure of that."

Ouvido que ferve a água

Meu ouvido direito vibra a 583Hz constantes
Raramente varia para meio tom ascendente,
Uma oitava acima e
Volta ao seu estado "normal".

Meu ouvido esquerdo escuta água quente,
Borbulhante.
Logo, meu ouvido ferve a água e meus nervos!
(Já está pronto, o chá)
É água que nunca evapora.
Às vezes, ela quer se acalmar,
Mas não.
Apenas fica seu som profundo,
Denso
Como o mar ouvido na concha.

E onde está meu "silêncio", se,
Me foi roubado!?

(ao menos, posso afinar meu violoncelo partindo dessa frequência insana)