Taking the pen, I wrote the verses that later became song.
February 12, 2009
Coincidentally this month, began when the words flood the mind, because the heart does not speak, are complicated and confusing that melody in our head, that sounds all the time all the time, even when we want to hear. So why not leave all those words on paper, keeping secrets, hidden we mean that without being told.
Music, that add-born, some hear and others believe, why not create?.
What is music? Know the meaning is even more complicated than just hear, or even create,
Not just a beginning or an end. There is a story, but I could be a complement to this, therefore, music is not simply the sound made sense a human being conceived mix each of them to create art, art that he wishes to create.
Since unknowingly incuse that's what happened, that day I made art, the music I wanted to hear the story I wanted to say, the perfect match for me to speak the unspeakable to all who would listen, tell and sing two items that were part of my art.
When I finally saw what he had accomplished, I began to show each of my near that capacity that I know. How easy it is to assemble a piece of music knowing that is what we want to hear, but with this, although it was music for me, something as natural as a limb, became a means by which he could speak of the forbidden, and to hear what my soul wanted to say.
That something so eloquent. I look around me, and I realize that human intelligence is focused on something quite different to happiness, happiness and focused on something entirely different to wealth.
"Wealth."
What?

