Posted Monday, September 8th, 2008
Kristina Marie Darling
Come in, the cellist said, showing her up a flight of dusty stairs. She recalled the thin wooden railings from her last visit, when they found canaries nesting in a corridor. Tonight, their song waxes with her restlessness, ticking like a metronome into the dark blue night. At this the musician begins to stare. He brushes their pale feathers from his tuxedo, buttoning his long silk gloves. The woman rifles through her pocketbook.
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Posted by Donia Carey on Wednesday, September 10th, 2008 at 3:41 PM
Very Salome, this mood piece with its textures and sounds. A beautiful enigma.