Four Hands, Playing

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Cettina Donato and Stefano Intelisano at The Townsend, Austin, 9/5/17.

She bends to the keyboard, playing a composition of her own called “The Sweetest Love.” He accompanies, barely contained in the role. The cascade of her curls. The speed of his fingers. The way she casts an eye at him and he at her and the music turns, pauses, continues. Perfect time, Chris says, and no percussion. I gave up Pics and Paragraphs awhile back, moving on with the idea that these little pieces should become something else – poems, a book, a springboard. Maybe. The world kept changing. Donald Trump. Leaving my job. A legislative season spent wincing at the news. There is so much to think about, so much that needs writing. But then tonight, the room more empty than full, the music so alive. (What happened there would never happen the same way again.) I missed this small undertaking, this attempt to give word and image to the unexpected and the daily.

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2 thoughts on “Four Hands, Playing

  1. Lovely, it sounds like a magical moment. I’m glad to see you got to experience this, and that you’re back blogging. I understand what you mean about the changes in the world and how it has affected things. Things like creativity, mindspace, and appreciation for indulgences, both large and small. When you begin to move through your days with fear, disbelief, and a panicky sense of injustice at the forefront, it becomes second nature to overlook the beauty and simplicity still present.

    Thanks for writing this, and for passing it along to us. It’s nice to stop and smell (or hear) the metaphorical roses in this current bed of thorns.

    Like

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