Our instruments do not make noise. Our voices do not cry out. Our songs do not have notes. Our music is not the riotous cacophony of roaring anthems. Our silent song is a typographic testament to the power of form; the tenor of type. Each letter is a muted note, contributing to rhythmic words that form harmonious paragraphs. These verses ebb and flow with subtlety and brashness, keeping a speechless rhythm. Like a staccato beat or a smooth bass-line, the kerning keeps the pace, giving each word a distinct tempo and cadence. The leading is like the break between each stanza; a short interlude before the music swells. Our lyrics are unspoken, but we accent them with the empathetic passion of a vocalist. We use fonts like instruments, each bringing it's own melody to the meticulous orchestra of type. Typography is not a sound, but an expression of form and beauty. It is the power to turn words into music. This book is music, because when you read this book, you will not hear music, you will feel it.
