I envisaged myself drowning, with my fists enclosing the dirt of recollection of me of yesterday in fragments. My mind convulsed while my heart slowly shrank, untangled itself to lose the synchronicity, to liberate itself from the constricting confinements of what is called reality, to float above every disquieting anguish and that was when my hands laid over something I had never felt the touch of before, with the air of connoisseur commenced the ritual of stealing away the quietness of the instrument, like they had always known how to improvise it and let it cry. Cry, cry its soul out aloud till the heavens could effortlessly hear it and bless it with their approval and applause, acceptance and absolution for which my fists had been awaiting as a signal so that they could lose the hold of the dirt and elutriate themselves. I erased and erased and erased myself till myself was vanished, perished and my own self was found.