I think about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde often. Folks talk about it like a strange horror story, but it isn’t strange at all. It’s honest. That’s what we are. Everyone, split right down the middle, trying to keep the pieces walking in the same direction. Everyone has their own Jekyll and Hyde, sitting in the same skin, arguing over who steers. You hear them sometimes, if you’re quiet enough, the part that wants to be decent and the part that snarls. Most pretend there’s only one inside, the good one, but that’s a lie we tell in order to stop shaking when the truth sits down beside us.

When you make something like music, a painting, a story, or when you sit still enough to breathe and listen, they might stop bickering a while. Like you’ve tricked them into silence. The argument disappeared. For a little bit there’s no right or wrong, just creation. But it is not to last, sooner or later the voices start up again. Yet I still can’t convince my friends their belief in free will is sort of confusing when you consider the current of the river pushing constantly. Do you believe the very current interrupting your thought also is done by you? Still, while you pretend to be in the Köln concerts, you remember what peace feels like. It’s enough to keep you hoping. Maybe that’s all we can ask for in life, catch a glimpse of when the fighting stops.