One evening, whilst we were practicing, I was at my wit's end and filled with such despair at our cacophony, that I sat on the floor with my head in my hands and wept. Suddenly I looked up, and with tears still glistening my cheeks, sang one, clear note. And the note was sung most beautifully.
I stood and paused to wipe away the remaining tears, then pointed to one choir member to sing a note. And the note was beautifully sung. I pointed to the next, who sang another note, just as beautifully. And I did this until all had sung one beautiful note that was their own.
A chuckle escaped me, and I began pointing in a seemingly random manner. And each choir member sang their own note most beautifully. As we progressed, we found we had sung through an entire melody, and I clapped out a round of applause. Then with both hands, I pointed to two separate singers, who each sang their note simultaneously and most beautifully. Then, with my third, fourth and fifth hands pointing, we found harmony! With my sixth, seventh, and eighth hands, I was pointing hither and yon, moving about the choir as we sang through an entire hymn. And it was most glorious.
(attribution: Pamela Colman Smith, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons) |
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1 comment:
Fiction, woman! very nice.
Cheers!
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