I sit listening to Mozart's Clarinet Concerto. Listening. Haunting, lingering and arousing to the point of cheeky the clarinet plays. Then just at the cusp of cheek and the edge of spice, it slows down back into a touchy mellow and playful friend. Listen. Then you will hear.
The second movement is accompanied with the pronounced aid of strings. Like the clarinet but more rythmic and so complimentary like apple pie and custard. One fills in where the other is left and together they are a wonderful melding of tastes but still quite distinct. Cheeky. Haunting again. Slow. Then popping up yet again the Clarinet raises it's head.
Is it so? The soul moves in music, the heart in emotion and the mind lost in thought.
I think I'll just sit and enjoy somewhere restful between sleep and consciousness.
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