Existential Exercise I

Part one:

In my teens I sat at the piano on a path of poplar trees, and felt confident in the assertion that no human, no swimming nor crawling nor flying creature dislikes music. As of that moment it was evident that whenever I compose sounds and words, it needs to be under the premise of the effect that these may have on any listener — perhaps on every listener.

Part two:

If the universe takes a sharp look at me, and considers my dedication to the way I compose music, write lyrics, bake bread, grind coffee, converse, deconstruct the notion and structure embodied in the word love, and the manner in which I acknowledge my role and responsibility within what I view as life,

Part three:

I need to imagine the universe tapping me, and saying: Try this!

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