Sotto Voce
Why won’t you play for me, father?
In the hallway, his music breathes. I sit outside of his door, crossed-legged on the floor, listening to all the things that he says with the instrument. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata creeps from under the door. I am spiralling into it. Into the life that he is creating through each note. It tells me a story. And what is this story that I imagine while I listen to him play? Well, it begins like this…
