Yesterday I attended a performance by Joshua Bell. My last-minute tickets landed me in the second row, where I could see his shifting expressions--the almost grimacing tightness around eyes melting as the cadence mellowed. I could hear his breath flow into the music. Sometimes I'd realize I wasn't seeing him at all but I'd gone off somewhere, following the music into dreamed-up worlds. Sometimes I'd wonder what he experienced as he played. I supposed he was wholly in the moment--in the music--just as I lose myself in writing on those days when the writing flows.
Though it's very different from yesterday's performance, I like this take on "Eleanor Rigby". Have a listen and jot down the images that come to mind.