Friday, 16 January 2009

The beautiful music in his mind

There is an old man sitting on the opposite side.
The whole journey he has been scribbling away frantically,
Through pages,
Turning pages,
Flipping back.

I finally look over to see.
He has a mixture of manuscript and lined paper,
Words and music.
Swapping between pieces of paper
as he has new ideas for music,
then lyrics,
then back to music.
Tapping his foot
- hearing his creation form inside his head
nodding,
tapping along,
stopping.
- that's wrong
then a scribble
followed by more frantic writing.

Trying to capture all of these ideas before they fade away.
I wish I could have heard the beauty of his creation.