our tiny galaxy

The product of last night’s insomnia.

This is my musician’s attempt at Art.

Two caterpillars fell in love, they held hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands,and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, ad hands, and hands, and hands, and hands, and hands.

Bear, Macarons, Clouds

Once upon a time there was a bear.

He was left behind by his family that was inside jail.

His mother, father and brother was charged with the murder of a young blonde girl.

Named Goldilocks.

The young bear wants to visit them in jail.

But he needs something sweet and light.

Because he has a brilliant plan.

So he goes on a search to find macarons.

Specifically, cloud flavored ones.

He went to bakery after bakery, and walked until his paws are raw from walking and his mouth sugary from tasting. 

And finally, he found a small bakeshop in the middle of a swamp.

Inside is a witch who made countless macarons in the most exquisite flavors and her penguin who serves the most interesting coffees. 

The bear ordered a huge box of cloud flavored macarons and brought them to the visiting room at the jail.

He proudly presented his box of macarons in his raw paws and gave his family a sweet smile.

That night the bear family ate all the macarons and floated, with a stomach full of clouds, over the high prison walls, across the lands and slowly drifted back to their small home in the woods.

There they found the young bear awaiting their arrival with fresh porridge, just the way they like it. 

I think you’re really cute, And smart, and talented and strong, With a great sense of humour, to boot (And also, I like the way you smell). Well, I, at least, think we’d really get along...

Anyway, You look beautiful today (But then, you always do). The point is, I adore you. I’d do anything for you."

These are the things I wish I could say To you. They’re all true. But somehow I never do. So now that I’ve found the guts, No Ifs, Ands, or Buts. Today’s the day I’ll finally come through And say: “I like you."

Two girls lifted the lid of the piano. Lé watched as Kun pulled over a chair, though the piano bench alone was wide enough for two to have sat side by side, knees grazing.

The chorale book was dug up and placed on the stand. Kun flipped it open to Jesu meine freude. “You play soprano and alto, I’ll play tenor and bass, okay?” she said.

“Sure,” agreed Lé as she took her spot on the right side of the piano.

With a breath and a heartbeat, they began. Their movements were awkward and soft-spoken. Lé watched Kun: her fingers were uncertain, grasping for fermatas, and she bit her lip with a rueful smile, but her eyes were bright.

“You’re looking for an F sharp there,” noted Lé gently. “And I think we’re in the wrong octaves. Here, play an octave up.”