Long time no see. I mean, I wrote a couple of stuff during this break (along with a new story) but they’re no longer alive, so just forget it. If these were the art, they’d be alive.

What’s alive?

Noises, I guess. Every noise is an art. The noise here refers to ever ything it can be, whether it is from this planet or not. Analog or digital, silent or ground-shaking, in-your-head or not.

More proof? Art is dangerous, so does the noise. One can trivially show the harms of all kinds of noises. I’m (surely) going with the last one.

Before that line, there’s the intent factor. Good old mystic books love to carry the narrative of angel noises, the ones that changes the life eternally. Folks talk about their saviours in public. Souls create the hanging vibrations. Of course, the opposite side is quite concrete too - this just does not kill our initial perspective on the noises.

Relevance? Intent is the meaning. We’ve two paths to discuss here: Materialistic aspect of the noise with it’s habitual effect, and the hidden aspect of the noise as a dependency. Right there, that dependency is the harm. It is, arguably, a true bomb of life. An affection with a confusion, a reflection with a selection - a correction with a corruption.

Such definition of dependency has no bounds. It is (almost) everything that you hear, think and enjoy. Each form brings its value. Therein lies the danger - not all notes help you in this circle.

Among these bad guys, there’s a creative mess maker. A disaster generator. I was afraid of it (and I’m still), but I’m afraid this is changing. It’s getting closer and closer every single day. Not sure how long I keep up with it - when I can’t, probably every single one of you will be useless. I’ve managed to escape in the past, maybe I won’t be lucky this time.

Or maybe you won’t. I stand to be corrected*.

*To whom reading these, enjoy if you can. I’m open to discuss all, if you want. You know what to do, if any of these makes sense.