I hear her move, from room to room. Not so much her footsteps, but the music that travels with her. She paces from room to room, carrying her radio along. Or is it a radio? An iPod maybe, or her laptop – either way, I hear her.
Its the same song – on replay – time after time. As if to absorb the entirety of the song to her soul. Its the same song for about a week, taking a momentarily break for solitude and silence. Wonder what she does then, absorb the deeper meaning of the lyrics of the song that haunts her every day? Or maybe it doesn’t haunt her – maybe it comforts her – its hard to tell.
It goes on, like a ritual. Waking up to the same song, falling asleep to the same song.
Until, she comes across another, a new melody, a new tune, a set of soulful words entwined in a beautiful symphony. She replaces the new song with the old. She absorbs the melodies, absorbs the lyrics, and when she is too familiar with it – she moves on.
I’ve known her, for a while now. Her relationship with her song-of-the-week has an uncanny resemblance to her relationship with life in general. She is eternally on the run, pausing for a while but never stopping. She dives into distractions and absorbs whatever it has to offer.
And then, she leaves.
She is drawn to familiarity – she runs away from it.
Does it bore her? Or on the contrary, does the security that comes with the familiarity scare her? Does the feeling of permanence that comes with knowing something so well scare her?
May be its either, or both. I know the lyrics and the melody of the songs she’s been playing for a while now and her secret is safe with me. Would I be able to be the only song if I make a promise to never get used to her?