the muse finds you
There is a Pablo Neruda poem that begins:
And it was at that time… Poetry came
to find me.
(Via neo bohemia)
It truly feels that way. How did music find me this Winter? I was hiding from music, in a way. I had no plans to record (((I really did need to NOT think about composing and recording after The Scent of Light, which was wonderful and exhausting…)))…and yet…