I’ve heard that story, and it sings in my head like a quiet drumbeat—each myth just a pulse of feeling stitched into sound. Music does more than play; it paints myths in color, letting stories breathe and move like a living chorus. It’s as if the ancient Greeks turned their songs into living tapestries, each thread a feeling that swirls and rewrites the tale. It makes me wonder what chords we’re hiding in our own stories, waiting to be sung.