Beethoven’s Romance No. 2, a cello, and two blonds

She hugged her cello passionately may be like a lover, may be like a mother, as if it was her first, or may be her last hug.

She swooned.  Her head waved ever so slightly, as Beethoven’s divine revelations lifted her soul to magical zones few of her audience ever visited.

She shut her eyes tightly to see farther (deep blue eyes shaded with layers of heavenly melodies revealed by Gods with troubled souls) as she  felt the sign of the conductor. Her silky strings of gold, cascading down her right shoulder, sparkled as her impish fingers gracefully caressed her cello’s strings.

The blond in front of my seat started  curling a wisp of her shoulder-length hair with her index finger.  And…… Beethoven’s Romance No. 2 had never been more magical; I’d never been so close to God that I  actually felt him in my tears.

At Saint Joseph symphony’s opening night,   Gods murmured, muses whispered,  and it was a divine pleasure for the senses.  Corners in my soul I never knew existed had awakened. The blonds and the cello were etched in the leaves of my heart.

As I walked out of the theater, I wondered: Could people in this country, in their drive for ill-targeted budget cuts, zeal to fund wars and other imperial enterprises, and the capitulation to the lizard part of their brains, let one of our race’s finest and most humanistic legacies die?

The blonds and the cello fill me with hope that the answer is pleasantly magical!

ekaysan

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