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And so the music died..

They tell we used to have a sound. A time when love was not assured by a glance but had to be confirmed by a word. A squint was not affirmed unless pushed through the air by a shout. Sadness was not only hallow- it was accompanied by weeps and washed with poems and bitten nails.
Nobody called the motions, no one had the notions, as the words quietened. Fingers took over. Sound lost its eco as people shook, hit, caressed, grasped. Letters spread like plagues, affixed to papers, walls and screens.
It was only a matter of time as fingers too lost their touch, they tell, for for humans, looks were always enough. Muscles softened, keyboards rusted, as glances, gazes and ganders satisfied the souls.
The change was a subtle one. The old were not used to the efficiency of one’s eyes. Their fingers trembled as they tried to convey their thoughts. The light shined in the wrong places, their blinks were unintentional, and their wrinkled eyes often wandered away. But just like the dead learned to be silent, the old learned to loose their grips.
For the younger, the change was not much of a change at all. A newborn’s cry as they met the world was also their last, as it was discovered that a baby’s eye contact was much the same as the one glanced throughout the adult world.
Of course, not all looks were perceived the same in different areas. A small, kind rise of the brows meant a hurtful attack for another. But it was persisted that the gaps were much smaller to overcome than those of the letters, and so looks continued on looking.
Still, some fingers kept on swinging in the hidden. Only few held on to the mind’s calligraphy. Lyrics kept being evinced, played to music that could no longer be heard. For they knew that soon, as letters will be forgotten, so will be the past, as eyes could not express what was no longer is.





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