I walk through the tune of life new to the decibels. There are riffs that seem like I should know them, yes, but the music is wholly unfamiliar: it is as if I have maybe heard these songs before, but still can't quite place the melody. The beat of my striding is an easy one, and I will try and keep the rhythm simple, I think, not try and outdo the meter that I spy some others keep in time to — but I feel as if I've never kept this here beat before, not like this. The instrument my soul is being strummed by a new hand; though the hand is mine, these fingers touch and are touched as if new to sensation itself. What is this new exhale, from which out comes such a song I never knew? It is all crisp and fresh — like I am a child again — and I wonder wide-eyed at everything.
