Twelve Tones, or, finding shapes in the noise


This is the most… beautiful? existentialist? and therefore beautiful? thing I’ve seen about creating art in recent memory. (Thanks to my boyfriend, who pointed it out to me.)

It’s a nice reminder what the more abstract purpose is, when I’m busy being frustrated at perfectly normal annoyances in the life of a writer. It’s good for my fragile little writer ego that I get pulled out of the minutia to look at the stars once in a while, and maybe it is for yours too.