52 rolls

There are times when I fall into a deep reverie floating through ideas, or slip into an almost trance like state listening to music, losing all sense of time, space and place. This can be quite awkward sometimes. Not knowing how one has arrived somewhere, but having an awareness that it might have just been the most beautiful piece of music one has ever listened too.

Whether it is listening to Schubert’s Rosamunde, the celtic harp, or a jazz trumpet, I sometimes slip into a world of dreams, visions or thoughts where ideas become depicted by imagery, or just sense sheer ecstasy. When younger I was often described as rather serious, a dreamer, and even once called a sensualist. Not in an erotic sense, but rather as a depiction of a person enjoying experiences coming from pure appreciation of one’s senses. It is only as I have grown older…

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