The Red Ant

A cozy room, white painted walls, and the drumbeats vibrate in my chest. I’m a taveler between two worlds. I pass through and everything is exotic to me, is at a distance unconnectable, unrelatable, though I can recognize it all. My countrymen a culture of their own and I, the anthropologist among them, understanding them; their actions and behaviour, perhaps even blending in at times. Though forever self conscious. Proud that I am a master of their language, that I know their etiquette, but acting it all out consciously and fully aware of the social interaction taking place. A red ant among a million black ants.
What music would you have me play and for what occasion? Music can make the occasion if you are at a loss; observe your emotions as they are revealed. I will play the first note and you play the second, together we play the third and strike a chord. If you watch a movie on silent, you may not know how to feel without the soundtrack. A tattoo artist once told me that’s how they manipulate you. Go to the cinema and laugh out loud during a scene that’s only just a little funny and most likely you will hear a few people in the audience join in and laugh. It’s like a yawn; contagious.

-Zac Herman

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