ジョシュ・ブローリンのインスタグラム(joshbrolin) - 1月14日 12時44分

Mozart Requiem. Sequenz (Amen). Her in my arms, in my hands, lifted from below, resting forward her chin onto the soft, smile between my thumb and index finger. Her hair wild as if she has written a requiem of her own. We lift and slowly descend with the choir, then lift again with the violins, fluctuating slightly upwardly. They start to affect the cells and cries become slow whimpers and the music permeates, settling her into a trance that only the greatest written music can. It corrals you, takes you by the hand, and pulls you through a sweet breath into the throat of a heaven made of panda whispers and stuffed animal gosling. It renders you weightless and allows you to grab on to Jonathon Seagull’s wing for a moment until the Mach descent frightens you too much, so you drift onto another bar of celestial rhythms until, again, it lifts you closer and closer to the moon. You see wildernesses below as they were, going about their businesses, but there you are orbiting them at a cleft’s speed only to settle when the violin’s bow brushes with its last hair and you realize there is no wind. Your eyes are open, a slight breath coming into and from your minute nostrils, while you stare at Carl, your angel friend who comes with you wherever you go, and you see him, again, wooing you, maybe even doing a backflip with his little wings and you slightly startle out of your reverie and you smile a smile only a baby can; it is a smile that, from the pain of childbirth, can only be reached having touched something that we will seek to touch again and again for the rest of our lives.

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