The abandoned hut, wrapped in the silence of muffled voices and escaped in time, filled with memories, past, secrets. The creak of the door it desecrates the silence. Between peeling walls lime-whitening now that the dirty-falls, accompanied by dusty clutter, resonate silent moments passed, rice boy grin of a woman, a lover's sigh, the clumsy thump of a foot, the stumbling block in a sentence, a gray cloud of dust and breath sounds and noises, but most items, items that now escape the weather and the regret of the past, slipping into the air from oblivion muddied.
The broken door of the barbarian army worms closes behind him with a squeak, a light thud, and the darkness, broken by faint rays of light that penetrate the boards irregular speed of the ceiling, giving an air of haunted magic, the thrill of danger softened with curiosity.
Entries submerge the listener that invades the sanctity of the tarnished old room, the trap network in a whisper, a spider's web invisible, but fled the ear that tries to follow, fled, taking shelter, rumors fly, confidential , shy virgins to preserve the lost memories, escape. Then step inside, and the reality is irretrievably lost, there remains a solitary body surrounded by the dust of the past, between thoughts stacked like useless junk, that no witness statements claim.
A piano in the middle of the hut. Bechstein old, old and abandoned, as the place where it is hosted. The dust will cover the lid and keyboard, dust of years without help and without music, which is silent now gagged in ropes, a prisoner of nothing, blank.
feet of the instrument, numbed by the years, they are immersed in the middle of a low rectangular sheet of water, black water which reflects the ceiling and its lights. The seat is waiting to board, anchored by a leg damaged, dry and dusty in those eternal lonely days that haunt the hut and her memories. There salt. Your feet touch the dark water. Small ripples in touch. The seat part
vessel, She loosed the chain and leaves the board, as the voices behind him, lining the route his darting like sirens shrieking, howling, and implied angry to defend their intact granite silence.
He comes to the instrument, and a faint ray of light slides up to the keyboard. It swells up to become a cone of white sun that exudes the fine powder of abandonment, and how old the spotlight dimly lit.
The keyboard covered in glitters faintly grubby in an ivory tear escaped dirt. A note
forgotten echoes between the walls, bouncing off the bad acoustics of the place forgotten by God. You lose slowly. A moment of silence, the voices are silent, and then the sound still echoes from the belly the piano, and the beginning of a fugue in three voices of Bach. The development comes fast parts, a solid rock of notes is constructed by the intertwining of voices, firmly underpinned the keys to not escape the attack and not give the roar of memories, which surround a turbine instrument and musician, and as vessels spectral initiates the battle. The commander moves forward on the seat, without fear maintains its share of Bach singing dust mixed into the abyss, while the flight is silent and transfixed by the haunting cries of a whirlwind, but proceeds incorruptible, following its complex melody. The turbines do
spiral ripples through the instrument-and disturbed-tremble at his feet, while the ghost voices bombard the piercing shrieks, but now the drain is ending intact, the voices are not imitating the other fled, the sound was lost in silence the piano is still a gap in inscrutable silence, are the ghosts to escape while the ' grand final agreement is close, the triumph of the three entries Bach,
/ the door open, clear stream of light that invades a sliver of room, "Anna?" / look through the dusty darkness /
slips in the last line ' agreement. The entries are resting, and victorious.
And the piano, an elegant pirouette in the sky high, rises from the glass of water, escapes and disappears into the air accompanied by memories of the past. Remains empty, and a person at the door ajar. From the ceiling broken escape the voices and memories.
Entries flee.
0 comments:
Post a Comment