Music as an end in itself, as pleasure and pain, trauma and therapy.
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Sometimes a steady pulse, sometimes a trance-like dance, sometimes arrhythmia, sometimes the complete absence of it — waves of euphoria, melancholy, joy, and anxiety.
The sky smiles at the trees, cars hum to the buildings, flutes call out to the spirits, synths to your flashbacks. The ego grows, the ego dies, the ego exists, the ego vanishes. What is ego?
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