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I imagine Antonio there, carefree, with his mind free, while filling the sheet music with brilliant notes that spring from his soul. A metaphysical world unfolded before his eyes, a perfect reflection of the real world, a Platonic hyperuranium; at that precise moment, his hand continued to write free from the control of rationality, following a new path in the world of ideas.
Three centuries later, while Antonio is in an eternal dream and perhaps contemplating the perfection of the universe, I am here listening to his immortal notes that, every time, make me forget that I am a man. Yes, because while I am lying down on the bed, with my eyes closed, listening to these magical compositions, I feel like an eternal being. I realize that life is a short dream, but I look at reality from the outside, I am an eternal being.
The sound of that violin does not enter my ears; it seems to exit from my head. I feel like I am Antonio. Or perhaps he has become a part of me. But the dream is soon over. Now it is time to remain silent, and let the brain implode after realizing that it just had the honor of tasting a fragment of infinity.
Thank you, Antonio
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