Search - Anthony Plessas :: Tales of the Water [IMPORT]

Water must have been the first music ever heard; at least according to the Lord who created it all. Perhaps therefore, the circle of life appears aqueous, too. Born like dew at dawn, you are the gleaming bead that rolls on the petals of an early morning?s rose; until before long, you spring and spray like a bubbly brisk cascade, agitating the drowsy surface of this lake that used to be home. Then some day you start to dream. You want to see and to be seen, equally eager to be felt as to feel and, thus, at times out of verve, at others in dark mood, you claim all attention like a naughty downpour in an August afternoon. Always, you enjoy to dance along the waves, sweeping through and through, with unimpaired zest from the flood to the ebb of the tide that will let you dive into the depths, even if still just fumbling for some kind of sageness. It is when you subside that you mostly remind a liquid diamond, diaphanous like crystal clear water, reflecting even the humblest ray of light. And when time reaches you like a dripping tap that can rake your ears during a lonely night, you do not mind, because until then, you are already nostalgic for home. Ocean is a word that can fit in every wish. This is how you accomplish what you always wanted: to become serenely strong. Thalassa. Every drop is water and every man is a drop. This music tells the tale of them both and while it spurts, it quenches all thirst, pervading you note by note. Water was the opening music of the world; and in all likelihood, it will be the closing one, as well. Yet, until then, see to it that you get wet. Let the music soak you and just close this black umbrella. Eva Omiroli, author