I wrote a little story last year. It was about music and its potential power and beauty. It explored the terrifying notion of how it might feel to exist without music in our world. It was a tender little piece. … it had magic, for all its lightness and air. It had depth.
Hearing music, being able to play it, singing it beautifully or singing it as if no-one else exists in the world. Tapping it out, hearing it as you run your fingers along a fence, sensing it in the pulse of another. Feeling it. It all blends to a sweet and personal harmony.
This is the potential beauty of podcasts everywhere. This sudden light into the heart of someone else’s life.
…it somehow ends up in the middle of the digital era and leaves us surrounded by questions of privacy, individuality and public scrutiny.
There’s something timeless here. It’s not only the tale, but the way the tale has been edited and mixed. It sings and it stays with you. It left a haunting little place in my heart.
It is a deft and warm example of how storytelling can bring us close to the real humanity of an individual.