The rhythmic beat of her footfalls thumping on the wet pavement matched the percussion coming from her headphones. The familiar music drowned out the concrete world around her. The memorized order of each note brought a sense of calm, washing away the panic that seemed to rise even more frequently these days. She could close her eyes and imagine a perfect world colored by the melody and her sister’s smile. She and Ailín listened to this music together when they were younger…
The jumbled panic sometimes got so loud that it was all she could hear, all she could feel. The endless ringing, the sobbing, the uncertainty of not knowing when it would end.
The music always helped. Even when the chaos wasn't there the music made everything more peaceful.
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Maelle came back and told us she hadn’t found her. When the police left, so did my Mom; leaving just Maite and I. In silence we weeped and, as I walked into Ailín’s room I gathered the courage to ask her what my sister said: “I love you. Please don't forget me.”
Of course I could never forget you. All I saw was you. And I cried more, and then I couldn't even see you. My mind was just chaos as I imagined the chaos in you head, the things we never said. I felt like I was drowning, we were drowning. All I saw was us. I felt like we were dying. She brought herself back to the music, the consistency, the softness and ease of the ordered notes. She climbed the marble stairs, into the crisp white building: a place for safety, a place for healing. She walked past bare walls of sterile air and luminous lights, and into a room sun-lit through ironed curtains. On the white cot was her sister wearing a hospital gown. Her eyes lit up when they met. She walked over and sat on the mattress, plucking one headphone out of her ear. Her sister reached for it gratefully and placed it between their heads, that rested blissfully, knowing that the chaos had
Dusk had come, silent, ceremonious, which brought her painful but pleasant memories in the diminishing light. Her shaking hands and arthritic fingers from the passing of time were holding the record player’s metal arm. The stylus hopped, moving lightly and quickly over damaged grooves from excessive use, landing very deep in the vinyl recording. She attempted again, one of her hands embracing the other, to the point where the overture’s rewarding hop and crepitation signified the precise spot. The incongruous speakers passed a faint melody of music.
There were so many days that I just couldn’t convince myself to leave the safety of my bed. Some days, I buried myself in books and the internet and other days, I spent hours staring up at the ceiling and wondering why I couldn’t cry no matter how much my eyes burned and my chest ached. Melinda and I could commiserate; we were both lost, wading waist deep in emotions we couldn’t fathom. Moreover, we both found similar escapes-- Melinda had art and I had music. When I was at a point where I could no longer verbalize the way I was feeling, I found melodies and lyrics that perfectly captured my thoughts.
This showcases a pattern in middle sister’s detachment from details as a way of coping with the many traumatic experiences she faces, and I believe it is a comment on how many people during this time
Unknowingly, Connie is caught up in a fantasy world, which she naively believes to be her reality. The music she listens to gives her a chance to escape the mundane reality of her own life and allows her to maintain her fantasy and attitude. Music to Connie is like a narration of her dreams, troubles, and feelings. She enjoys sunbathing and listening to music while having all the time in the world to daydream about boys. Music provides her with a level of happiness, warmth, and romance that is far removed from her actual
There is not a more fitting yet accurate representation than to commence this paper with the lyrics from Eye of the Tiger (Sullivan, 1982). Without even typing the words, it is a fair assumption that the ballads, harmonies, and chorus are playing in your mind. The imagery and feeling you accompany with the song creep into your thoughts. Words that without a musical formation would be lost, are remembered with precise accuracy – but why? How is it that due to a rhythmic structure a combination of words are easily recalled?
The music is contain to be a pervasive motif in the story, from the 'jingling' of the girl's bracelets, to the music at the drive-in restaurant "that made everything so good…like music at a church service" (Caldwell 2). Everywhere Connie is going, she always is playing music herself or she hear music from her surrounds, in which it distracts her from whatever she is doing. This shows how she is very dependent on music. “The music serves as an immediate bridge between the two parties, opening the door to their conversation” (Caldwell 2).” Leading Connie with music gets her “turned-on” to Arnold Friends because he plays the same music as what she was playing early.
Once again, the author incorporates music into the background of the scene to add to the importance of Connie’s push for maturation and desire for whats on the other side. As the girls got picked up from their nightly adventure and were headed toward home the author states, “she couldn’t hear the music at this distance” (319) giving the implication that once Connie is back under the watch of an elder, she isn’t free to be herself and act as if she is an adult, she is pushed back into her lone shell of childhood. When Connie is
Music can bring the brightest of joys that keeps us moving through our dull and boring lives. An example of this joy is Ishmael Beah’s life as a boy soldier in his book A Long Way Gone. As he tells you his story, he tells of his dance group with his friends, the times he heard music in the middle of war, and how music saved him from the madness that brewed within him. Music has the unique ability to create peace in a person’s life despite the difficulties surrounding them, and to bring a constant reminder of who they are as a person.
Despite the ache in her heart that her mother’s death left her with, Billie Jo conquered her pain and continued to play the piano. Despite the physical hurt it caused her hands and the emotional pain it causes her as it remind her of her mother Billie Jo persisted and didn’t give up on her dreams of piano playing. Such as when Billie Jo thinks, “I play songs that have only the pattern of myself in them and you hum along supporting me. You are the companion to myself. The mirror with my mother’s eyes,”(194.).
”(p. 20) With this in mind, it is clear that music is a vital aspect of keeping society’s happiness and hope at a steady rate. It also signifies that without music there would be only darkness, and society would crumble because of
From beginning to end, I am captivated by the music. Each element brings a unique character to the overall piece. The music takes the listener on a suspenseful journey. The arrangement of the song gives me a visual of someone stumbling upon a dark forest and begins to hear the fast-approaching movement of something behind them. The pairing of several melodic phrases throughout the composition adds to the sense of chaos and turbulence.
“Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything” (Plato). If my childhood was filled with anything: it was imagination. From my earliest memories of my cousin, and I putting on a sold out concert on my papaw’s front porch; to putting my baby dolls to sleep with lullabies. Music has always been a big part of my life: it was the one thing I could always count on, no matter where I went; and that still stands true today.
It felt as though I was running through a montage of my life like in all the romantic movies. It felt as though everything was passing by in a blur yet ever so vivid. Like time had stopped yet moving so fast. The words I spoke felt unreal and the steps I took felt non-existent. I looked ahead of me and all I could see was white sand and the beautiful ocean rubbing up against it.
I had never ending waves filling my eyes. I was as forlorn as a new widow and and felt bruised and sorrowful as the black stone under the blue sea. Nothing made sense. My life was over. Sometimes I wondered if she had 'gone on ' to some place and just did not want to come back.
My family is now gone, forever. Whilst all of the people in the theme park ran away from it as quick as possible, someone grasped my arms. His face deformed; his eyes were as dark as the night-sky; he was powerful and fearful. He gave me a message and