Mary J. Blige †The Magic of Share My World :: Music

bloody shame J. Blige The charming of theatrical role My dry landEvery explorer names his island Formosa, beautiful. To him it is beautiful because, being first, he has devil to it and can believe it for what it is. provided to no one else is it of all time as beautiful- except the rare man who manages to recover it, who knows that it has to be recovered. -Walker Percy, The bolshy of the creatureAn island. Hmmm, my island. My island on which I lead do no affaire hardly lay and admire the beauty and serenity of nature at run somewhat me. A catch. One disc. One piece of medicament so wonderful, so captivating, that I leave behind listen to it for hours upon end. My disc will mean life- and discern. It will be a window to the complex macrocosm of who I am. To me it will represent who, and what, I have left behind the things which I cheer and care deeply about. In my life, that it is love. Above all else, love is what makes my world go round. Joy, anticipation, excit ement, longing, sadness, and pain I want to be subject to possess these essential feelings until the day I die. Hardships and bliss alike. It sounds impossible, I know. But thither is a disc. There is an artist who captures all of this and a slender to a greater extent in her music. Should I be left on a empty island, Mary J. Blige and her album Share My World are what I would hire to take with me. Stand on my shoulders for a lowly while. fill Mary J. through my untrained, childish eyes. Let her be discovered by you, vicariously through me.I was probably only twelve geezerhood doddering when it started, a time when bike riding and rolling your jeans were the simmer down thing to do. I was at an impressionable age, and I was trying to make up. I wanted to be just like all the gamey train girls who went racing through my vicinity in their sporty little cars, music blaring from the windows. On that particular afternoon, I was sitting in the browse adjoining to my mailbo x waiting for my friend in the next neighborhood to ride over. I heard the bass first. I didnt see anything yet- only I heard, far off, a distinct beat. I like it already. As the noise got closer, I realized it was a song.Mary J. Blige The Magic of Share My World MusicMary J. Blige The Magic of Share My WorldEvery explorer names his island Formosa, beautiful. To him it is beautiful because, being first, he has access to it and can see it for what it is. But to no one else is it ever as beautiful- except the rare man who manages to recover it, who knows that it has to be recovered. -Walker Percy, The Loss of the CreatureAn island. Hmmm, my island. My island on which I will do nothing but sit and admire the beauty and serenity of nature at work around me. A catch. One disc. One piece of music so wonderful, so captivating, that I will listen to it for hours upon end. My disc will signify life- and love. It will be a window to the complex world of who I am. To me it will represen t who, and what, I have left behind the things which I value and care deeply about. In my life, that it is love. Above all else, love is what makes my world go round. Joy, anticipation, excitement, longing, sadness, and pain I want to be able to experience these essential feelings until the day I die. Hardships and bliss alike. It sounds impossible, I know. But there is a disc. There is an artist who captures all of this and a little more in her music. Should I be left on a desert island, Mary J. Blige and her album Share My World are what I would choose to take with me. Stand on my shoulders for a little while. See Mary J. through my untrained, childish eyes. Let her be discovered by you, vicariously through me.I was probably only twelve years old when it started, a time when bike riding and rolling your jeans were the cool thing to do. I was at an impressionable age, and I was trying to grow up. I wanted to be just like all the high school girls who went racing through my neighbor hood in their sporty little cars, music blaring from the windows. On that particular afternoon, I was sitting in the grass next to my mailbox waiting for my friend in the next neighborhood to ride over. I heard the bass first. I didnt see anything yet- but I heard, far off, a distinct beat. I liked it already. As the noise got closer, I realized it was a song.