Whispers on the wind
Oct. 25th, 2004 09:29 pmFlutter Flap Flutter Flutter
In Persian mythology the butterfly is a restless spirit. A fragile and broken soul, unable to find peace, flitting about from place to place, striving endlessly to find the rest it needs, fluttering a ghostly afterlife in a beautiful yet fragile winged physical form. This tragic and pretty image makes me both deeply sad and in a state of sincere awe.
daevas has written and recorded a song about the broken butterfly. It’s horrendously gorgeous and captivating.
I flitted around all over the land this weekend. Train windows not only reflect my face back at me, they reflect a view of the timeless world outside. Sloping fields and tiny villages speed past my image, or is it the other way around? Decay is in the air, crumbling red brick tunnels and bridges precariously span the line. We speed past abandoned bricked up mills and old church steeples. Twisted birds circle slowly in the grey glum skies, which smoulder an eerie shadow over the subdued land. Leaves having scattered from trees, now revealed as pointed skeletons in the cold light of day. The wind has stopped. Silence abounds, the world is waiting. You can feel it, almost touch it.
Winter is coming.
Something tells me this one will be colder than most. Deadly cold. But I smile and return to reading my book in the warm train. I’m moving onwards. Wherever the wind may take me.
In Persian mythology the butterfly is a restless spirit. A fragile and broken soul, unable to find peace, flitting about from place to place, striving endlessly to find the rest it needs, fluttering a ghostly afterlife in a beautiful yet fragile winged physical form. This tragic and pretty image makes me both deeply sad and in a state of sincere awe.
I flitted around all over the land this weekend. Train windows not only reflect my face back at me, they reflect a view of the timeless world outside. Sloping fields and tiny villages speed past my image, or is it the other way around? Decay is in the air, crumbling red brick tunnels and bridges precariously span the line. We speed past abandoned bricked up mills and old church steeples. Twisted birds circle slowly in the grey glum skies, which smoulder an eerie shadow over the subdued land. Leaves having scattered from trees, now revealed as pointed skeletons in the cold light of day. The wind has stopped. Silence abounds, the world is waiting. You can feel it, almost touch it.
Winter is coming.
Something tells me this one will be colder than most. Deadly cold. But I smile and return to reading my book in the warm train. I’m moving onwards. Wherever the wind may take me.
Re: flutter by
Date: 2004-10-25 02:52 pm (UTC)Regards to recodring studio we're currently looking for one :)
I just wish we could get some London gigs meanwhile too. It'd be great play London again. I'm glad you liked the song sweetheart *kiss*
Re: flutter by
Date: 2004-10-25 03:58 pm (UTC)Alexander the Great just didn't know a pretty thing when he saw it. :( I bet he was the kind of nasty person who kills butterflies. *eeeep* :(
Wasp Factory have a nice recording studio. As do Interlock. :)
It'd be fantastic if you could play London again, sweetie. If I see the Asylum crew anytime soon, I'll suggest you to them - they often put gigs on at Slimelight (although the acoustics there are terrible). Remember that your music is so fantastic I'm prepared to travel long distances to see you. :)
Will hopefully get around to posting a proper gig review soon. Look out for it! :)