Raging against the Goodnight Featuring Priyabrat Panigrahi

This is the beginning of many things. And the end of many things. This is the confusion of the blind, not sure where I'm headed. But this is the dizzy fall of single-minded purpose. A blocked nose trying its best to smell again. Even if that may be bullshit. A head trying to get a hold of itself after twirling in the round room way too many times. This is the sound of a voice screaming itself into existence from under a plane of water. Underwater comfort trying to be broken. This is the desperation of a mind coming into consciousness. The agonising crackle of a waking limb that was folded in passivity. For much too long. This is the start of many things. Mostly of which, led by the confusion of being overwhelmed by a great many thoughts. The confusion of being dragged along by crazy ideas. The rush of air into your lazy lungs.

This is the equivalent of taking a deep breath. The one before you dive in. Before you leap into the pool. before you press your lips to the saxophone, committing to the sound that will come out of the other end. Be it pleasant or be it the bellow of a wounded elephant. This breath is your way of making a promise to the sound that will be born. That knife of air that cleaves through your lung, creating a rarified space. The levelling of shoulders, before you walk down the air. The pacifier you take in, before you go into push another tiny human being down the passageways of coming into existence. The rage of creating. Rebelling against the light. Your bid for immortality.