In the spinning center of sound

You close your eyes. Sit back. In the black you hear the opening seconds of the song. Percussion. Rocking back and forth like a rail car. Buhduhdum-de-dum... Buhduhdum-de-dum. On every first beat and a half of each four beat measure. Buhduhdum-de-dum. (Beat) (Beat) (Beat) Buhduhdum-de-dum.

Then out of the void rises the voice. Unusual. Otherworldly. Speaking English, yes, but with an accent that belies effort. As you listen, the voice sees to come from the center of your head, eminating outward.

"I've seen it all..." she says. Another voice answers, accented also but more commonly so. "What about..." he asks.

She answers. She asks, he answers. Back and forth. All the time, riding the railcar rhythm. All the time, in your head.

The voices rise with intensity, then fall, soften.

Finally, the song comes to an end, not with a bang or a sudden jolt, but with the ease of a train escaping from view and earshot, into the distance, until the only sound you hear is the ever-fading beat. Buhduhdum-de-dum.

There are times when I want to be wrapped up in sound. To disconnect with the physical realities around me and become music. And when I hear this song, I feel this even more.