The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

September 24, 2016

For Aleppo, Roar

The news is increasingly horrifying. We can't do anything. We
watch and try not to avert our eyes. Horror stalks our dreams,
nowhere near the horror that stalks daily life in Aleppo. The
world is full of crushed symbols. I roar.

I use an open-hole classical flute here. I can play notes bent
to the world. I can do this; I can't do anything. I can't do
this; I do nothing.

Careful listening. The notes flatten. As if breath.
They breathe. As if the last breath.

As if.

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