Sunday Morning: A Winged Victory

Love this…hypnotized by it…but not sure that I fully grasped the story line.  Van Gogh and his illnesses have been on my mind from posts earlier in the week. (9/21-a and 9/21-b).  All interpretations welcome.

Good Sunday morning.


A Winged Victory For The Sullen – Requiem For The Static King Part One (Official Video) from Erased Tapes on Vimeo.


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Comments

  1. Wow…a lot to absorb first thing in the morning. All these butterflies represent the soul? The purest life force within each of us that can’t be contained? The moment in time when one concedes an internal argument with one’s sanity? A final moment of grace before being carried away by one’s inner world…I don’t know – have to watch again – after coffee.. ‘Morning.

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  2. Deep. What Mimi said (I think). The butterflies represent the freedom he no longer has and the inner beauty he still does? Are we graded on our answer?

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  3. The whole time I was wondering if they would find their way out. I didn’t worry about the man so much because he must have done something to deserve being there, but the butterflies needed to be free. I guess that’s pretty superficial thinking, but …first impressions. Again, “somebody” could write a book about this small frame of time.

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  4. LaDona's Music Studio says:

    Is there a question that he’s NOT in prison? Am I too literal?
    BTW – loved the music 🙂

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    • Laughing. Did you see prison guards? Not me. Could be an asylum… (And she loved this music!)

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      • LaDona's Music Studio says:

        Oh.
        No. There were no guards, were there?
        Surely asylums look better than this?
        The butterflies were free at the end, weren’t they?
        Maybe I was too fixated on the music given our previous repartee. It was discordant at the most powerful moment. Interesting, though, that it’s in B Major – a very bright key – and key choices are never arbitrary.

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      • Now I can’t stop laughing. I couldn’t tell a B Major from from a Z Flat. Sorry.

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  5. Thoughts…wishes…desires…aren’t all of us prisoners in a jail made of… and for us out of the same material and in our own fashioning? And the release or…in some cases…the escape of those thoughts…wishes…desires…are in some way our own small pair of wings…fluttering…seeking…incessantly beating in their search for others that seem to be the same…

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