A piece starts, a song, just any song, which sometimes isn't really yours, maybe not even from your universe.
But it happens right at that moment, that precise moment that goes Bang .
The butcher, acca and emme as they say here (H&M), on the radio, in the car, in a club, a street artist.
Anywhere, it can explode anywhere.
It explodes next to you, like a thermobaric bomb of the kind that is carried around a lot at the moment.
Months, days, hours, geological eras will pass, but that song will always have the power to go Bang .
And see more.
And see inside.
Other things, streets, roads, alleys, highways.
Different facts, different people, different cities, different people.
You, different in another universe.
And all those things that.
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But that song is always there, it will never abandon you, it will never leave you, for better or for worse.
Like that leaf, that flower, dry but still beautiful that you found in that old book of your mother's, left alive in its own specific day, that specific period, with perhaps your eyes lost in other eyes and your hands warmed by other hands.
Bang.
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