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Music isn’t about things, he says. It is things.
He took to working in lightning shorthand, sketching out music in quick, clean strokes, the way a child might scribble a crayon moon, a loopy forest, and a gash of campfire, and call it night
Music forecasts the past, recalls the future
The book on his nightstand opened to where he’d left off the night before. He stopped each evening at the top of the left-hand page, the end of the first paragraph
The man is retired, and people take up all kinds of hobbies in retirement. They visit the birthplaces of Civil War generals. They practice the euphonium. They learn tai chi or collect Petoskey stones or photograph rock formations in the shape of human faces. But Peter Els wants only one thing before he dies: to break free of time and hear the future.