Music on the sill
When the curtains are not drawn in the apartment on the top floor across the back street, I can see a large book standing upright, flushed flat open in a familiar manner that could only be a book of music. The first time I noticed it, I thought it must be on a piano, but I am pretty certain that I would have heard it if it was. And how painful it would have been to move a piano up three floors? So I guess the book is really only on a music stand.
I told Barnaby that apartment buildings here remind me of blocks of chocolate. Beautiful enough to eat. Somewhere nearby, there is a guitarist, maybe two - real ones, not like me. I have heard a trumpet too, but given how unsoundproof and resonant these places are, I have no idea which chocolate block it's being piped from - it tends to sing jazz.
I spent yesterday being very ungeeky and ultra-domesticated. Today, precious sunshine calls.
Posted by sniffles at September 08, 2002 10:22 AM