Ineffective Magic

There's something good about an instrumental. With no vocals, I don't have to think about the words, and so I don't need to know what it's all about, when it starts and when it ends. It flows like the air - even though we can't see it, we can feel it, but we don't need to understand how it works.

Music filled the air without effort, the sound rushing in and around every side of the bar. Some reacted to the beat, others continued in chatter, but always it spoke to them in some manner, as if the slowly changing tones touched different parts of the mind like a sort of auditory massage. A lively tempo lifted the soul, elevated the spirit, and moved them to dance, while a slow one would relax the mood. Somehow, the room was infused with the aroma of lavender, and the glasses in various states of being emptied were sitting on the tables.