Bloody Love And Violins

When words fail the music will speak. Our soloist embarks upon the stage with a broken heart and enough memories to fill the concert hall. The director, however unemotional, gives her a confident nod, and his presence is felt behind her as he sits with the rest of the orchestra. He watches, he waits. The crowd is hushed as her footsteps echo, bellowing center stage. Now it's her time, her way to recall, her way to hurt, her way to feel or feel nothing at all.