Apparitions of Sound | by Oyin Oludipe

Deep within the coastal bounds, enshrined in silvered ranges and fragments, one feels the emergence of a slow, disembowelled song. Like prodigal currents from a corner of encased fevers; stale, swollen passions; it rises to the senses' occasion; its progression, pubescent, yet riotous. Of all the facets of aloneness I have relished, none is just as sublime. As the mind recoils, communal pulses grow weak; the steel vanes subside; and then - tunes. One supposes that they emanate, although inaudibly, as an inner, mental placation for a torturous severance from the universe. In another manner, it does seem as though missiles of ghostly decibels are set loose from the skies - a tonal invasion from which no regimentation, resolution, or recession can retreat. Perhaps, the climax of the solitude, to whom one's spirit appends a destination, breaches the veil of nothingness. Perhaps, in certain silences, one approaches the very kernel of melodic transcripts. Maybe all of this is nothing but a soft, edifying intrusion. The summative emotion is peace; clarity; a sense of the flesh as an agile, absorbent haven of energy.