I stave off tinnitus by whispering into my own ear. I've been introduced to a silence that bleeds darkly; from white noise, to black deprivation.
I didn't realize there was an even lower level.
The quickened quiet frames a fiendish female face. I watch the absence of sound highlight the colors of a fresh series of mental photographs. Vivid and vibrant and brief.
Nine performances, and withdrawn.
And yet, she is still the best opera yet written on the parchment of my soul.
10:19 p.m. - 2015-03-26
Recent entries:
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