I close off my conscience, brain remaining indefinitely in the vestibule, unable to escape to warn reason. Goosfraba… I shut the door, my ears, my mind, stoically putting up a façade of indifference towards the “melodious” – so they are described – double stops my sister painfully wriggles from her bow. Oh, how protean she is, making even Handel’s Sonata sound like a prostrated pugilist proofreading a portentous polonaise from the ink of which a pungent odor escapes, infiltrating nostrils and seeping in through the cracks of an already resigned soul. D sharp! Can’t she hear it! It’s too flat! No!
So much for perspicacity. I should have started my homework last night. Now it’s too late: the scars of my childhood are too great to be effaced. Now it’s too late: the aperture of my pupils is at 2mm. How’s your playing you ask! Ha! Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Beautiful! Go now! My mien of benignity will not last long. …show more content…
Holding back sobs, beating my head against the pillow, rocking my trembling body back and forth, I desperately try to tone down the lurid squeaks emanating from Monti’s Csardas’s artificial harmonics, the wraith of which has haunted me for the past months. At least the wall paper in my room is orange.
One may describe me as nettled, another as insane, but I know my mission. I must help them escape, they may be artificial but they still deserve, they still deserve to see the harmony of life! I can’t stand it! I can’t let them be tortured like this! Slowly, grasping the railing in one hand and closing one ear with another, I climb, step by step, down the stairs to them. I will set you free! You are free! Go now, escape, run, run, don’t let her see
So much for perspicacity. I should have started my homework last night. Now it’s too late: the scars of my childhood are too great to be effaced. Now it’s too late: the aperture of my pupils is at 2mm. How’s your playing you ask! Ha! Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Beautiful! Go now! My mien of benignity will not last long. …show more content…
Holding back sobs, beating my head against the pillow, rocking my trembling body back and forth, I desperately try to tone down the lurid squeaks emanating from Monti’s Csardas’s artificial harmonics, the wraith of which has haunted me for the past months. At least the wall paper in my room is orange.
One may describe me as nettled, another as insane, but I know my mission. I must help them escape, they may be artificial but they still deserve, they still deserve to see the harmony of life! I can’t stand it! I can’t let them be tortured like this! Slowly, grasping the railing in one hand and closing one ear with another, I climb, step by step, down the stairs to them. I will set you free! You are free! Go now, escape, run, run, don’t let her see