reckoner

It wasn't every day, or every month, for that matter, that Chloe found some new music that she liked. And only very rarely did she happen upon a piece that felt transcendental, at which point she would listen to it over and over, eventually beating it till its poor melodious death, only to be resurrected once again upon a chance encounter many months later. Such was the case, once again, with a song she heard by an artist from whom she would not have expected such a reaction.
But this one was more complex, expanding and contracting in deliberate forward movement in melodic waves, like Arvo Part's Frartes. Like all the others before it, she would play it in permanent repeat mode in the darkness of her bedroom, and, flowing in and out of her, the sounds caressed her to sleep. And when she awoke in the morning its echoes would greet her with good morning wishes.
Chloe thought it fitting, then, as she listened to the song in the afternoon, that it reminded her of her favorite film, called Sunrise from 1927. She remembered that right after she saw the film for the first time, in the haze of the emotional catharsis in which she had indulged for the past 95 minutes, she called her best friend Jana to inform her that she wished to show the film at her own funeral, whenever that may be, that she felt so strongly that it was almost an expression of her own self. The film, complex and layered, yet visually beautiful, had affected her like none other, much the same way this new song had. Each work of art was the sonic and visual expression of the same feeling, the same experience.