My little tale
It is mentioned in Eastern wisdom that, if one asks the crowd where God is, where are the Gods, everyone reaches out to heaven, far away, beyond the clouds. Instead of pointing everyone in his own direction, where his heart beats, where his most intimate breaths take place, where Esperance leaves.
And I ask the crowd where the Music is, and everyone reaches for the sky, far away, beyond the clouds, in the distant future, a day where there would be time. Instead of pointing everyone in their own direction, where the heart beats, where the most intimate breaths take place, in this deepest place where we are born. One in the Multiple, the Orchestra.