For the best reading experience, listen to this while reading the chapter. This entire chapter is written to the movement, and you will see breaks. It is separated into minutes. Each section should be read to every checkpoint. Dont skip ahead, it’ll ruin the experience. And yes, there are parts where you will just have to listen.

I sit here. Ahead of me lays building, more sidewalk, and street.

What’s the point of this? Why should I even bother to be here? Why can’t I just go out and live my life the way I want to live it? Some people just don’t get how I want to left alone and enjoy the sights and wonders of what we’re currently living in. So what I’m no longer what I was before. It’s just a new start.

I think.

I let low flowing sounds go through my thoughts, taking me over.

Pure bliss.

I just listen.

The soft, long, simple note continues for ages. Faint chords grow somewhat louder. Perhaps a glockenspiel?

[start reading at minute 2]

The sweet thought of violin fills my head, taking away all the melancholy that swept around me like a cloud. I don’t need to care what people think or do.

This is it. I get it know. I use music to escape what I’m currently living in, the torture of betralement and lies.

I am Octavia Philharmonica.

I listen some more.

The violin continues, getting more rich as the song progresses. Another one joins, creating a layered-effect. I like it.

[start reading at minute 3:00]

The music gets louder, faster, and more exciting. It fills my head, the trumpet overwhelming anything I thought before. This is what I wanted to do, and what I’ve always wanted to do my whole life. I don’t need anything else. Music is my life, that’s all that it is, and all that it will be.

Oh and the drums! How they come in, breaking the soft melody, turning it into a real piece.

The high pitch plucking of guitar throws everything together. the sudden of key movement, swinging back to normal before you could even say anything about it.

The memories of getting my cutie mark comes back. Playing some sort of shitty piece that can’t come close to touching the music going through my head. I wish I would have written this while I had the chance.

I need to write this down

I go through my satchel, and force myself to write down every note that I hear.

The repetative trumpets, the high string of guitar, the messy clash of cymbals, and most importantly, the beautiful stringed violin. Without it the piece would be empty. Boring. Flat.

It’s beautiful.

[Start reading at 6:20]

The music calms down, the guitar growing louder, accompanying the violin now. Everything I even think about this is becoming less articulate just to get the point across. It just sits like this. For a whole 2 minutes and 40 seconds, It just stays.

[Start reading at 9:00]

It picks up. Everything grows more distorted. The violin repeats the same double eight note loop for a minute or so.

[Start reading at 10:15]

My hoof furiously rights down every single note. It wont stop. I need to do this.

It’s beautiful.

I cry.

[Listen until the end, if you want to]

End of movement one.

I’m done.