This year I felt that I wanted something musical, so the word on yellow paper was this:
As we watched me tumbling over and over in frozen stillness she advanced the audio beam to its next track and The Art of Fugue, performed by Marie-Claire Alain, came stalking into the room on its centuries-high legs. It was as if Bach had with spells and numbers called forth some cosmic monster that would eat me up, eat up the world with its implacable and insatiable logic.
Someone down the road sings in a choral society, and she advertises concerts by tying posters (A4) to a tree on the pavement, in thin plastic covers. I thought that my contribution would fit there well, so that is where it went, with yesterday's date and the SA4QE URL at the bottom.
An Hugh Bis