I first saw her bony fingers when I went to pray amid bones at the Capela dos Ossos.
She always sat on the left hand side of the skeletal maestro, playing hauntingly beautiful melodic notes. I would always move closer to listen to those notes of hers, while she always stared at something nobody else but she could see.
When I went to the Cathedral to watch the Queen who had mourned love walk down the aisle, the skeletal maestro told me that he had not seen the violinist in a while.
the skeletal maestro told me that he had not seen the violinist in a while.
I often found myself thinking about her, wondering what had happened — why she walked away from her audience. It was only when I went to the woods a few days ago that I heard those familiar melodic notes once again. Stepping inside her cabin, into a cacophony of colours — hats hanging on bunches of roses and silk throws draped as curtains — I found her sitting on the sofa with a cigarette in her hand and the violin beside her.
“Why did you leave the orchestra and us darling?”
“Hello to you too Madeliene.”
“You and your melodic notes have been away for too long.”
“I wanted to be alone Madeliene.”
“Yes but we all want to listen to you play, you are wanted, what is it you do not understand?”
“I want to be irrelevant Madeliene, so that I can play whatever and however I want to, without the pressure to play what the audience might expect; without a reason to feel wanted.”
With that darling, I left her to her irrelevance.
Story credit: Image via Vogue Italia.