I don't know what I was expecting.
But it definitely wasn't "Make a track using only kitchen appliances and your voice" written on the whiteboard in blue, squeaky marker.
Joost turned to us with a grin like a kid who just got away with setting something on fire.
"No instruments. No samples. Just what's in your kitchen. I want chaos. I want personality. I want to hear your morning routine... in 808s."
Some people laughed. Others looked confused.
I just wrote it down slowly in my notebook:
'Track with kitchen sounds and voice only.'
Under it, I added:
absolutely unhinged. possibly genius.
Then I closed the notebook, shoved it in my tote, and walked out.
⸻
My days usually blur together.
After class, I spent four hours locked in the sound lab trying to fix a mix that just wouldn't sit right. Then Milan dragged me out for lunch—if you can call overpriced vegan ramen "lunch"—and we sat by the canal talking shit about everyone in our department, like we always do.
Then more editing. More white noise.
Then my job at the record store. Then the tram ride home.
Then sitting on my bedroom floor at 2AM, trying to convince myself that sleep was optional.
It wasn't glamorous. It wasn't profound.
It was just... Tuesday.
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
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FanficHe was chaos in a tracksuit. She was the silence between notes. Luna Visser never believed in hype-especially not in artists like Joost Klein. But when the Conservatory brings him in as a guest teacher for a month, everything about her carefully mea...
