Welcome back to the melodic labyrinth, where notes ascend only to descend in the logic of reverse. Today, our soundscapes defy Einstein: a symphony sung backward like a karaoke night gone awry. The crescendo starts with silence, and the encore is always a muted trumpet with no audience.
“In Stravinsky’s cage,” a quote by someone who never was, "To play in reverse is to pirouette through life's awkward pauses, with the mastery of a cat who knows its ninth life is an encore performance." Here we document our so-called *progress* in reverse: the falling of unheard notes, the unraveling of melodies into a cacophony of silence.
Perhaps in another universe, the brass bands wear silver, and the saxophones sing lullabies of bygone days played in reverse chronology. Would that irony resonate with the stars or merely twinkle them into obscurity?
Unwound Verses - Particle NotesPrevious logs are mere shadows in this soundless hall of forms: Log 0133 | Echo of Yesterday