Taken to orchestral concerts as a child, I was restless. The complexity and vast architectures of a typical Romantic symphony made me think of the music as some fractal maze, wholly illegible in its ever-shifting textures and bombastic pronouncements of brass-laden grandeur. It felt like sound and fury signifying nothing.


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… is an arts worker, photographer, singer and writer living in London. His writing has previously appeared in Red Pepper and New Socialist.