We listen to an ancient tune, whose subtle rhythm makes us breathe, like waves that roll onto a beach under a starry sky at night. It is a melody we know by heart from long ago, and when we hum it gently like a bird, it strikes us almost like a déjà vu. “Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.” Because we’re unaware, of what we share with almost everyone: the taste of something else, a longing, that we carry with us from the very start. A curiosity for things we can’t imagine, as they are on the other side, and still, we know that they are there. It sounds familiar, and I’ve seen that face before, if only we remembered, where that somewhere was, the place we know each other from, but we are sheltered by the tender, gentle coat of daily life, and we forget. We dream that someone has to be there, at a different place in time and space, where there is always music, and we listen to that tune: there there, elsewhere.