I hold this belief that everything can be punctuated by music and everything can be punctuated by light.
I just pressed a cup of coffee; the mission soundtrack punctuating my moves across the floor. 1 minute before the water boils, I grind the beans. 2 minutes after reaching the boil, I add the water to the espresso-ground beans. the crescendo has grown, the classical singers have enriched the mix. I love this soundtrack. 3 minutes to simmer, the percussion accompanies my OCD, a few seconds past 11:10 I began - a few seconds past 11:13 I will pour. the music has recessed and begun a slow resurgence, a rumble introduction. growing, and grown, 11:13+ comes with a strong downbeat, and I pour the velvet liquid into my clear 1 serving mug, rotating, clicking against the bottom to create a whirlpool, sucking the cream upwards. the music is reaching for a plateau, a sterling bright landscape, ripe for an intentional melody or phrase, I raise my cup to the light in my window. and an oboe begins.
this is the glory of music and light and all manner of senses and sense.