(from the beginning)
Intermezzo andante teneramente
Embracing a line was like finding a place to start. Painful in the beginning and fraught with danger; dangers of excess, danger of meaninglessness, danger of something to say and saying it badly. There was always room for that. And when balance returned and he felt one place was as reasonable as another, he would begin.
One line really was as good as another. In the beginning you never really knew what you were going to say, anyway. And once you’d said it, well the thing you said would be heard by so many people, all who thought it meant something different. Some were quite sure and others were less certain, but it all meant something different. Viola was the maid’s breath, horn for heart. No need for call and answer when the ground is there. Sounds unfold in their own time. Radiance beams in its own way. Just might not see it.
Couldn’t see much when the fog was down like this. Driving the back roads was less fun when you couldn’t see far enough to stop for deer. Only happened once, wasn’t worth repeating. Fog left you suspended in time. Couldn’t look down at the clock, take your eyes off the road and you’d lose the lane. Eyes on your whereabouts long enough you’d lose how long you’d been there, how long you’d been doing that.
“Any idea where we’re at.”
“We haven’t come to town yet?”
“Much help, much appreciated.”
“Just as soon be through this.”
“I hear you.” then, “tell me a story.”
The one where the storm blew and blew and no one was saved? Where not one shred of humanity was left unscarred? Pibroch for pity, forget the sturm und drang. Life was a carnival, remember? Plays well with others, given half the chance.
The one where the stars come out for fear that their demise has been threatened? Seven sisters, now six, now five. Once there was a belt of stars, you could see it on the clearest nights. Now there’s little to mark the place. Like going blind must be. Things just fade. Don’t remember what was on the corner before that building. Nice the way they tied it into the donut place on the corner. Irony must surely be alive and well, they’d matched the colours of all of the fast food buildings on all five corners, and somehow it all blended into the B&B factory. Things made with flame and steel. Six sisters, now five, now four.