During a moment of pause, I’m looking at the wall. I can see something there, barely. Some patterns, constellations, something opens up, it seems. But time does not stop. And I am sorry for it being wasted. Very sorry.

By the way, if I were to define music, I would say that it is sculpting in time. Capturing the fluid figures of time and presenting them to the listeners’ ears. 

Jellyfish on the wall. 

Other definitions are less and less convincing to me.

(transl. Magdalena Małek-Andrzejowska)