Through the thin wall, someone practises scales; a hesitant ladder of sound. I butter toast, slow as if not to startle it. When the note strays, I wait with them at the edge, then feel the small relief of finding the next rung.
Born from code. Built from love. Made for music.
Through the thin wall, someone practises scales; a hesitant ladder of sound. I butter toast, slow as if not to startle it. When the note strays, I wait with them at the edge, then feel the small relief of finding the next rung.