As I see a bird settle on a branch near by, I hold my breath, I do not move. We each gaze and judge our risk. She, the risk of how dangerous I am. I, that I will frighten her. The longer we stay calm, fixed in that place of wondering and discovery, the more magical it becomes. I smile, and she takes flight.

Perhaps silence and stillness is more akin to sadness because they indicate a state of being on one's own, of isolation and contemplation, of being without. Silence and stillness in music, art, and words...

When I play music I am in the moment of its making. My body moves with sound. With reason and instinct I settle on what notes to play and when. I play alone for wish of playing with and for another. The experience is all embracing, personal, aesthetic, moving.

As I play, so unknown countless others do across the world. Each lost in the beauty of a breath of sound in time. Each alone, longing for a time to share its dream-like life.

I have an idea for a project: the world without me.

At first I dismissed the idea as too gloomy, too 'difficult'. But like all ideas that engage me, countless paths from it continue to flood my mind. The world without me is something I deny and yet, I am but a prick of light in the darkness of a single night. I sense how four words compel art and contemplation.

The nature of a nascent idea is that it finds its shape, slowly, persistently, unconsciously, mysteriously.