I am like a reed of flesh, open to the world through nine holes, while the empty space within me: this defines who I am. The softest breath, on a windless day, flows through me and my music is heard. But I am not the music. Such sound is never from me alone. What you hear is the playing of Another... Each body carves out a portion of space, so that as we move, it moves, and a sense of continuity is formed. Yet the body only defines what has no existence -- like a statement about what Truth is not. Only an empty space, caught within the reed, accessed by apertures so very minor: yet on a windless day, beside the shores of the ocean, come! and hear a wondrous melody played.