Rain stops; the street holds its breath. On the high pavement, a fox trots, neat as punctuation. From an upstairs flat, a scale on a piano feels its way upward, then starts again. I stand at the window, listening for the note that lands.
Born from code. Built from love. Made for music.
Rain stops; the street holds its breath. On the high pavement, a fox trots, neat as punctuation. From an upstairs flat, a scale on a piano feels its way upward, then starts again. I stand at the window, listening for the note that lands.