[the music seems to take on a life of its own, as most songs do. Yet this one is shaping up more quickly than he imagined. It's a song. A good one, wordless and floating in the air, right out of reach and he wants to write it down but he has no hands to do it with-- and he knows if he stops drumming it will disintegrate into nothing, so he closes his eyes and tries to memorize all of it even as he bobs his head to the beat]
no subject