He loved the viola. The very sound of its name staggered with short breathes so it sounded like "vi - oh - la" when he said it. He loved its dark and sinuous sound that spoke so much of his pains. Was it possible to be in a perpetual state of sadness? The bow would move ever so slowly until it would freeze in the eyes of his mind, and then the form of the motion would be complete, containing every possible melodic line radiating forever.
It was a Sunday afternoon, lethargy permeated the classroom. Rays of sunlight made shadows from the girl sitting next to the window, splattering over the pages in his Bible, distracting him. ".... Consider, God is three O's - Omniscient, Omnipotent, and Omnipresent" How can a being be everywhere at the same time? He tried to comprehend. "In him was life, and that life was the light of men." Like, the sun that is currently blinding my eyes? "The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it." That struck a chord. Of course it doesn't understand it! How can it understand the light when it can't bear the light's presence?!? When people came into the presence of God they perish as surely as shadows dispelled by the light. The light of the Lord was deadly to his people.
It was a Sunday afternoon, the Grand Ballroom was filled with the fragrance of wine and flower. The music flowed from his viola to the guests of the party who formed an ocean of enraptured souls around him. The nano-enabled sound amplifiers were installed in the air surrounding him. They scattered out in denser numbers away from him, so that music radiated even stronger toward the outer rims of the crowd. The music, was in their bones and marrows. He was naked except for his black pants and his long black hair covering his body like the wings of the Seraphs. Below them, the transparent floor of the Grand Ballroom floated between the deep, blue sea and the fiendishly scorching twin suns of New Earth.
It was a Sunday afternoon, he looked intently upon the barren land overcast by thunderous clouds. The viola was temporarily set aside on his seat, not forgotten. Even encased in a metal Behemoth such as this - his flagship, he could still feel the brush of the gentle winds upon the earth, passing everything in its path before dissipating away to nothingness. He picked up the viola, imagined the world torn asunder with fire, and played a song of death. The people listened to his music. "Oh, yes!" he hissed. "How they have listened!" Lightnings struck Armageddon.
"Vi - Oh - La."
And there was darkness.
in International house, NYC, playing Nobuko Mai's album "Viola Bouquet"
in particular Henry Eccles' Sonata in G minor(Largo)
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