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.
Monday, July 07, 2008
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7 comments:
A quantum of solace – a much loved passage. Nice. I am actually feeling better.
[shweta] :) Any other way of looking at it is just too painful.
You're back in circulation, this means?
Yup.
Yup.
Highly apt!
I nearly cried!! (when the match ended, not when I read this post :P)
Bah!
Double Bah!
He had it coming.
@ Aandthirtyeights No Tears for Old men
Vamos Rafa!
-Priyambad
Awesome post though... :)
-Priyambad
machan.
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
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