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writing_shadowsTwo short vertical lines to close off the final stave and the manuscript is complete.
It is the first thing he has managed to finish in... years. As he reads it back, he finds tears in his eyes. It's far from his best work and all too likely that no-one else will ever get it. It isn't a pretty piece, but for him it is a placeholder; a way to remember.
It is, in a way, his confession; an account of his history, warts and all. It is a musical expression of the fear and the anger that have dominated his life for so long; of the blood that was spilled and the lives that were lost.
At the top of the first page he writes in clear, bold letters: Symphony No. 3.
After a moment's thought, he adds a subtitle: The Ruthenian.
He gets up from the desk, and leaves his past between the lines.
It is the first thing he has managed to finish in... years. As he reads it back, he finds tears in his eyes. It's far from his best work and all too likely that no-one else will ever get it. It isn't a pretty piece, but for him it is a placeholder; a way to remember.
It is, in a way, his confession; an account of his history, warts and all. It is a musical expression of the fear and the anger that have dominated his life for so long; of the blood that was spilled and the lives that were lost.
At the top of the first page he writes in clear, bold letters: Symphony No. 3.
After a moment's thought, he adds a subtitle: The Ruthenian.
He gets up from the desk, and leaves his past between the lines.
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