One afternoon Bach, wanting some fresh air, stepped outside and noticed it was snowing. The first light snow of the year. Quiet little wisps settling on the eaves and curling through the branches. Seeing that, he had an idea: why not lay out several dozen or so blank pieces of sheet music, and see what sticks? The next morning, when he gathered them off the ground, shuffled them into random order, and sat down at the piano, he heard a little fractal-like cantata--the nimble arpeggios of the sky unspooled by snow. Each note on the bar the dried mark of a vanished snowflake.
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One afternoon Bach, wanting some fresh air, stepped outside and noticed it was snowing. The first light snow of the year. Quiet little wisps settling on the eaves and curling through the branches. Seeing that, he had an idea: why not lay out several dozen or so blank pieces of sheet music, and see what sticks? The next morning, when he gathered them off the ground, shuffled them into random order, and sat down at the piano, he heard a little fractal-like cantata--the nimble arpeggios of the sky unspooled by snow. Each note on the bar the dried mark of a vanished snowflake.
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