What the Frequency Made Visible

It wasn’t one memory—
but hundreds
unfolding across the inner screen.

Not a story.
Not a scene.
Just movement.

A flash of something—
past life, past moment,
past recognition.
Gone again
before I could name it.

Each beat shifted
to one side of my body,
each rhythm brushing through bone
like breath made visible.

I was not the listener—
I was the stage.
I was the light cue,
the velvet curtain,
the soft footfall no one notices
but feels.

Music moved
through my fingertips
without needing direction.
I didn’t reach for the moment—
I let it pass through.

No memory held me.
But all of them touched me.

With Grace&Ink,

Mai

Written after sitting in darkness,
headphones in,
letting 8D audio move through more than just sound.