There are just two kinds of music: all the other – on which the body can dance, and classical music – on which the soul can dance. While I was listening Rachmaninoff the flood came at my door. So they climbed two by two on the Arch. Not the birds. The birds cannot crawl or climb, that’s why they always arrive in time. ~ People crawl. ~ So they floated one year and ten days until Ararat. Life bloomed in two. If it wouldn’t be that simple! Two times simple! The drops of rain, two by two, are listening to my music on the other side of the window, before being absorbed by the silence of the earth. But the human is music and flood. Divided in two. Good, and bad. And divided. When inside of himself, when outside of himself. And he is sometimes late. Just the birds and the rain come in perfect time. Is it raining outside of your inside too?