Ralph Brooker<p>Oddly for someone who <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/reads" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>reads</span></a> and <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/writes" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>writes</span></a> nigh on incessantly I can’t seem to bear the absence of music. I don’t listen to music when I <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/mountainbike" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>mountainbike</span></a> or <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/hillwalk" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>hillwalk</span></a>, though I appreciate my walking partner’s chat. Without-music isn’t necessarily a silent state. I’d hoped electronic works (from <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Arneheim" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Arneheim</span></a> to <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Ircam" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Ircam</span></a>) might help. Now they’ve become ends in themselves! And this is really what it all comes down to. Reading and writing (though perhaps not equivalent) are (very often) ends in themselves.</p>