The language of choice

August 18, 2012 § Leave a comment

We went to have a look at some guitars last week, a friend and I. He, John, is my cell group member who will be soon to fly off to the United Kingdom to finish reading law there. The day had been sort of hot, but sweetened down to a mushy grey evening.

There’s something about the potential of a music instrument that makes my heart sing. And John tuned the guitars that were within my budget; all the while listening to it softly.

Perhaps, you could say that music is close to my heart – as close as it is to my ear. I grew up with a mixed ragbag of harmonies and melodies – nobody sang at home, but I listened to mushy ballads, old 80’s disco pop; the sounds of the millenium rushing in later to put me off radio for a while; but I believe that full-circle, when I hit London town, the music of a different area called me back home, and I was caught between sitting on the tunes I had known growing up; and exploring various new genres my friends tried educating me about, in between discovering these in the depths of what London’s culture speaks about.. and sings about, depending on the scene.

So, as I imagine myself sitting in the sidewalk today, contemplating a tune, I would just want it to say something like: “What a beautiful day! How beautiful..”

Something simple, but true.

 

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