Of silence and newness
A cello string struck to humming
The purposeless awakening
To all possibility
The knowing and unknowing of
What is to come
Prescient and blank
Dual and delighted
I am breathing very slowly
Tasting the air across my tongue
Every inhalation
As vast as the sea.
eleanor j jackson 
I shouldn’t call either pizzicato nor col legno striking; and for, a string to hum, you can only draw the horse hair bow.