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You are walking down a crowded downtown sidewalk during rush hour, bumping and jostling in a sea of people after the usual shitty workday. Suddenly, from an open window high above you comes the sound of the most beautiful and intimate serenade, a sorrowful wail, as if a man had no tears but for a violin. The jostling crowd does not hear it as much as they are suddenly filled with it. As the sound entwines and seduces its listeners, a great deathly thunderous quiet of sound and of spirit spreads outward as each is rendered suddenly unaware of what they were just doing.
Yeah, princess tutu is like that.