The lone man should find his symphony within himself, not only in conceiving the music in abstract, but in being his own instrument. A lone man possesses considerably more than the twelve notes of the pitched voice. He cries, he whistles, he walks, he thumps his fist, he laughs, he groans. His heart beats, his breathing accelerates, he utters words, launches calls and other calls reply to him. Nothing echoes more a solitary cry than the clamour of crowds. ~ Pierre Schaeffer
What if we were crying out of loneliness, trapped in this ever-expanding city that leaves us wandering from place to place looking for something to fill the emptiness inside us? What is life when we forget that we are subject not object, that we have become a projection of the city? I find this loneliness in the crowd. I'm not denying it. I move with it. When speed erases the self, when I become my shadow, his loneliness can be a beautiful orchestra indeed.
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