Suppose poetry is an accident of language, but not beyond the mind. That music is the talk of the soul, he is not only the soul. Just as Calvino said of the role of myths, there is no need to add any explanation, just repetition is enough, in which they exist and enrich.
I can't help but think, maybe, at the end of the text is music? What about those primitive human hieroglyphs? What about those tadpole-like notes? What about those natural blends that go back to basics?
"An orchestra is a world, a world! Everyone has their own instruments and talents. When they perform, they get together and play together, hoping to work together to create a magical sound and achieve harmony. This is the real..." (To be continued...)
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