Beauty is felt, not seen

Last night I found myself sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor of The Print Studio, listening to a duo from South Africa play the most heartfelt music. The man with the long, golden ringlets of hair sat on a pillow on the floor while he played his sitar; the woman strummed her acoustic guitar as she sang viscerally into the microphone. My sensorium was sated. The scene was devastatingly romantic and I almost cried from the overwhelming beauty of it all.