i am haunted. by slivers of music. they follow me. surround me. inhale me. and then exhale me. i am inside the walls of that music that has no walls. no bounds. no edges. no definition. there is only flow. liquid. flame. i can't get out. but i can see outside. this is not a prison. but a spiritual engagement. a compulsion of the soul. a bending of the senses to nonexistent angles. the pulling back from passion. only to plunge into it once more. with more violence. and brilliance. this is exile. and its inversion.