Night comes and bears your face. The most beautiful night, the clearest moon and the quietest woods. The night that is liberates and dark like you, but at the same time defenseless and bright. The night comes that brings confusion in me and into other tranquility: you always bring confusion. The night arrives that goes from zero to a thousand, from a thousand to zero, then quiet, then sound, rustle and flowing water. The night that, like you, is restless, unstoppable, tireless, but still wonderful!
It’s like I’m still a little child actually. The noises, the tastes, the smells, the sight and the touch are amplified, but so much that at times I seem strange (they probably are). When I eat something that’s done really well, and by good I mean when it almost makes your tongue melt at how good it is, I cry. I cry because I am moved, I cry because the taste is so good that I really feel happy in that moment. When I touch the leaves or branches of some plant I almost think I feel their essence inside me, I almost think I am one with nature. When I observe people’s eyes I try to capture their feelings almost obsessively, I work so hard that I often succeed. When I listen to music or just someone talking, it seems to me that something vibrates in me, as if my body changes as the pitch changes. The most beautiful thing of all is the way I look at things: with curiosity and passion, as if everything were beautiful, as if everything were new, even looking at the same things. I will be crazy, of course, but I am proud of this madness!
We listen to music because it is as if, in some way, it made us feel strong, with our backs covered, with our emotions protected. We listen to music because thanks to it, often times, we don’t need to talk, and other times just because we need to do it, but we can’t do it in any other way. We listen to music to tell ourselves a lot of mental lies and, sometimes, to be able to admit the truth to ourselves. We use music because among a thousand things that exist, music always understands us! It comforts us when we want to be comforted; it kills us when we already feel like corpses; it makes us happy when we need to be; it makes us sad when we cannot feel otherwise; it makes us nostalgic when it reminds us of particular events through words or sound. The thing that does music better, however, is to make us silent: it speaks when we are unable to speak, it silences us when we want to talk too much!

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