Monday, July 07, 2008

An Equal Music

In which we're drained

They play without music, their eyes sometimes on their hands, sometimes closed, sometimes on each other. What they hear, what they imagine, I do not know. There is no forced gravitas in their playing. It is a beauty beyond imagining — clear, lovely, inexorable, stroke across stroke, stroke echoing stroke, the incomplete, like the unending ‘Art of Fugue.’ It is an equal music.

Music, such music, is a sufficient gift. Why ask for happiness; why hope not to grieve? It is enough, it is to be blessed enough, to live from day to day and to hear such music - not too much, or the soul could not sustain it from time to time.

Song du jour.


Shweta said...

A quantum of solace – a much loved passage. Nice. I am actually feeling better.

Ludwig said...

[shweta] :) Any other way of looking at it is just too painful.

You're back in circulation, this means?

Shweta said...


aandthirtyeights said...

Highly apt!

I nearly cried!! (when the match ended, not when I read this post :P)

Anonymous said...


Double Bah!

He had it coming.

@ Aandthirtyeights No Tears for Old men

Vamos Rafa!


Anonymous said...

Awesome post though... :)


that man keynes is hobbling said...


the boy from mallorca rocks. It was utterly draining. I was listening on bbc world (not being television-ed)..and I couldnt really bear to listen.

What a fricking match.

Do you remember a time when Seles always beat Graf? In the end it ended Graf 10, Seles 5.

Mebbe this will end the same way