We Are Here
“Once again it sounded like it was coming from one of the upper windows of the town house next to the church. The piece was familiar, measured and sane and beautiful. Bach, in other words. I drew to a halt beneath a streetlight. The player fumbled, stopped, repeated a section with the stress on different hands, then returned patiently to the beginning. Though he or she was not destined for Carnegie Hall they were better than competent, partly because the playing had the freedom of someone who is... rehearsing for their own benefit and does not realize they are overheard. There are people for whom an audience is essential, who raise their game and feel more real when observed. The rest of us do much of what we do in an attempt to fill ourselves up, and that is more easily done in private.
I let myself in through the low iron gate and walked up the right staircase to the door of the church. I knocked. As before, there was no response. I tried the handle, but now it was locked.
I was about to knock again but noticed a tarnished buzzer on the side.MoreLess
I let myself in through the low iron gate and walked up the right staircase to the door of the church. I knocked. As before, there was no response. I tried the handle, but now it was locked.
I was about to knock again but noticed a tarnished buzzer on the side.MoreLess
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