Music trembles as it carries me. I am brittle, my many pieces buzzing. The friction of the universe contained in me. Silence and sound, grating against each other. Time and space, laughing in their cruel dance. Their song is gone. I am only whole. I am too broken to be complicated. My pattern is shattered. My music carries me. We are intolerably disparate, yet I am consumed. Music has the sense of a story, while I float without self.