Beneath the Symphony
Often, beneath the grandeur of orchestrated notes, lies the hum and buzz of mundane dialogues. These are not the words of epic tales or heartfelt sonnets, but the careful whispers of life in motion. Translated, they read much like static noises—like the crackle of a radio searching for a signal, interspersed with the faint echoes of important, yet omitted stories.
Just out of focus; not in stereo, we hear:
"The kettle boils for two, but three cups are prepared."
A child's laugh beneath a self-absorbed parent's sigh, grounds the composition.
However, left abandoned, forsaken static; destined to silence. Not a note.
Even in discord, unity finds a way to speak. A whisper here, a rustle there—life's orchestration is ever-present and often unnoticed by many. Yet, if one listens intently, there’s a clarity waiting, lost in translation but spoken fluently beneath the symphony.
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