Acoustic.

Gogo will sit on her plastic matt,the sound of friction as her worn out marrows rub.She folds her bipedal limbs…

 Her wrinkled slender fingers will beat at the chords,in a slow slow hypnotic tune,her blood will pulsate at the very vivid connection with the rhythm…

Drawing a breeze,her diaphragm will heave..as if the molecules of her oxygen were bonded with musical notes… 
The Acoustic.

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