Begin by breaking every mirror in the house. Let your arms fall.
Regard the wall loosely, forget.
Sing one note, listen from the inside.
If you hear (but this will happen much later) something like a landscape
immersed in fear, with bonfires in between the rocks, with semi-nude
silhouettes on tiptoes, I believe you will be well on your way, the same
if you hear a river where vessels painted in yellow and black descend,
if you hear the taste of bread, the feel of fingers, the shadow of a horse.
Afterwards buy solfeggios and a tailcoat, and please don’t sing through
your nose and leave Schumann in peace.