i don't know how to play piano, and i don't know--don't understand--music as much as say, literature, but last night i had a dream in which i played chopin on the panasonic keyboard parents bought for us when we still lived in westfield, and i became so saturated in music that i left my body and became nothing at all.
the winter before last, after not eating for about three days, i went to my morning yoga session and, in the middle of a particularly advanced inversion, i found myself hovering a few centimeters above my body, completely detached. that's how playing chopin felt--i floated away from myself, too weightless and serene to remain anchored to my skin.
i can't tell you what this all means, except that i'm looking forward to coming home and experimenting with the upright piano parents bought for the sunroom, and maybe, with practice, discovering a drug-free avenue through which i can lose myself guilt-free.
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