drawing the V of Victory on
the black and blue screen. It
is the same hospital. Same
room – no, almost. A woman
is standing still next to me,
blond hair and blue eyes.
The Nocturne is playing in
the hospital. I start singing,
softly.
- Don’t. It is only in
heart, in your head, darling.
I listen. The sound is
becoming louder, louder. -
It is everywhere...
-
- It is driving you mad,
darling.
I cover my ears. It
sounds like an alarm. The
beep goes faster, faster.
Adrenaline, fear. I scream:
- Don’t you hear it?
Louder, faster.
The notes are fading, mixing, exploding. Intoxicating.
An orchestra of dissonant,
dislocated, disrupted sounds.
A wry hubbub. An ebullient,
flamboyant din. The zenith of
pain. Louder, faster. Chopin’s
work, my heartbeat. Chopin’s
heartbeat, my work.
Drawing by Maddy Osborne
- Just like your mother.
I look around - the walls withdraw, the world decays, the music collapses. Mother’s musical heritage. I cannot believe it. My whole family cursed by the nameless power of music.
Now it is my turn, falling in the endless and soundless well of inhumanity.
11
Bilingues Et Artistes - N*13