It was on one of his walks that he first came across it. It occupied an entire stretch of a huge vertical wall and despite the strong presence of graffiti in the city walls, this one stood out more than anything else. It was nothing but a song in tribute of Charlie Parker. It sounded more like a nursery rhyme. White lines of paint ran through in their own abudance of curls to almost reveal a melody underneath that absurd song. But like always as it is with a nursery rhyme, the basics were strong. And that was what the alto sax was all about. Marcus first saw a series of them in a music shop, lined besides each other with varying shades of a golden tinge.
Is Art really nothing but a medium of expression?
It had been an year since he had quit working at the bridge. For an year, he had done nothing but sit around in that torn down attic of his, reading up on basically anything that he got his hands to. He started with Baudelaire, Proust and ran through the cinemas of Jean Luc Godard. The absurdity in his existence almost resonated in the works of art that he had begun to absorb around him now. As the silence around him grew with each passing day, he embraced poetry for the sheer strength that it gave him. Words had acquired a meaning and depth of their own.
And what a joy it was to play with them. The dance of their rhymes conjured up a million different universes!Music gave life and form to those universes that he used to tread upon with leisure. Melody enveloped the words and created a fluid state of form creating one big hypnotic river of sound.
Ironically, the traveler is always the one who enjoys the journey. To the others, it is nothing but a mere test of endurance.
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