But what if music is what escapes when a heart breaks?

Each time someone dies, a library burns.

In one split second I saw everything I could be, everything I want to be. And all that I'm not.

He's bent over the strings tuning his guitar with such passionate attention I almost feel I should look away but I can't. In fact I'm full on gawking wondering what it would be like to be cool and casual and fearless and passionate and so freaking alive just like he is- and for a split second I want to play with him. I want to disturb the birds. Later as he plays and plays as all the fog burns away I think he's right. That's exactly it- I am crazy sad and somewhere deep inside all I want is to fly.

And then he smiles, and in all the places around the globe where it's night, day breaks.

That's exactly it—I am crazy sad, and somewhere deep inside, all I want is to fly.

We wish with our hands, that's what we do as artists.