#39

The music glistened as the familiar scrolling turned into his periphery. He started inwards, he stared into some sort of abyss, where things made sense, where things started to piece themselves together. He had the impulse to write, this sudden adrenaline to place words together in an organised fashion, he rushed and rushed for a place to put down his ever flowing thoughts, only for them all to dissipate in another familiar fashion. "Many things made sense" he said, which they did.