/lit/ - Literature

>>5726540
>this thread doesn't have long so I'll repost later
It's difficult to express what was left once he'd opened his eyes. He had been stained by some strong sentiment for sure, but sentiment is diluted in the eyes of a sober mind and the dew of last night's dreams would dry in due time. (ps I hate Jews)
A frustrating attempt to capture the blunt, awkward emotion of the piece was made on a scrap of paper by his bedside: Soaring. Expressive. Nirvana-like? He obviously wasn't cut out for poetry.
Fortunately he didn't need to be, as far as he could recall, the music needed to blow fresh air into a stale mind, was purely instrumental.
At last! Half a thought to grasp at. Dim eyes need bright lights, but this end offered a fleeting lucidity. Orchestral and choral, surely that was it, sweeping and exhilarating. Having never trained classically, specific instruments still eluded him, but it definitely involved strings. The voices were more familiar, soft and comforting amongst the bandsmen's melee. Deep and drawn out like a steady hand on his shoulder.
His transcendence was short lived and as such would not excuse him from going to work. However, for lack of a better description, he certainly felt different.