I am an architect, I am a lawyer, I am an accountant, I am an engineer, I am a surgeon I am pharmacist, I said, I made you all, I Am A Teacher 28/7/2025
It's you. It's you. It's you. The constant words that echo out when the fire is raging. But come let's just take a deeper look. Was it really him. Was it really her. Or was it me. Defining one's self is very hard to do. So the word you, will remain our battle cry. Until you have lost it all. OOPS. Too late.
Sometimes, I hear a song through someone else’s headphones, too quiet to name but loud enough to feel.
I never ask what it is. Letting it stay anonymous feels more honest. It’s not mine. I was just near it.
A violin behind a closed door in an apartment I’ll never enter. Footsteps on an old wooden floor above me like a rhythm nobody meant to write. A man humming in the metro not to perform, but because he’s alone and forgot the world has ears.
There are moments I’ve been completely undone by a melody I never fully heard.
Half of it lost to the train. Half of it blurred by walls. But something in me was tuned just right to catch what escaped.
We think music is what’s played. But maybe it’s also what passes through when we weren’t looking. When we didn’t try to hold it. Or name it. Or own it.