Yesterday I went to a concert and I saw music in a way I have never seen before.
I never knew music told such an intricate story, no, stories weaving in and out of each other to make the perfect embroidery.
Music is a poetic dance, of emotion.
The leaps and twists and turns.
The obstinate flute.
The melancholy harp.
The organized, regal cymbals.
And more.
A story told.
And yet one cannot translate it.
An attempt would reveal inaccuracies.
I only accept the original.
Described with one word.
Passion.
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