a vibrant atmosphere of restless harmonies surrounds me. in the market they sell voices picked from the rubble of fallen towers - i long to express in plain song the bling impulse of fresh sap, and the desire, still without declamation, to take refuge in chaste thought, in the noble life of speculation. perhaps new songs will spill forth - the most beautiful life possible is one where everything is determined by the pressure of circumstances or impulses, where there is never any room for choice.
