{"id":3970,"date":"2012-04-16T17:19:43","date_gmt":"2012-04-17T00:19:43","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.multer.com\/people\/monica\/?p=3970"},"modified":"2012-04-16T17:20:44","modified_gmt":"2012-04-17T00:20:44","slug":"3970","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.multer.com\/people\/monica\/2012\/3970\/","title":{"rendered":"Violinist Versus Time"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Weathered hands patiently adjust clothing
\nthat hangs looser everyday
\nas time slowly wears away the very flesh of life
\nWhittling away with an ever persistent knife
\nThat has had its blade at us since the beginning
\nmolding us from this shapeless lump of clay
\ninto something beautiful
\nonly to continue cutting away
\npast the point of beauty
\ninto the world of obsession and tradition
\nwhere we cut not because we must
\nbut just because we know nothing else.<\/p>\n

Just as she knows nothing else
\nthan what she has done her entire life
\nWaking to leave a bed that has molded to fit her shape
\nto stare into a mirror stained with time
\nleaving it hard to distinguish her figure
\nfrom the dull glass reflecting into aging eyes
\nDressing in all her best clothes
\nto greet each day with dignity
\nLeaving the house with a moment’s hesitation
\nat the door that divides her world
\nLooking back in to see if anything had changed
\nit never does.<\/p>\n

Out on the streets she returns to the spot
\nwhere she always stands
\na corner between a bakery and a restaurant
\nfacing a street that never ceases to move
\nlike the pumping of blood
\nthe people are thrown forth to be dashed about
\nand clatter from one place to the next
\nSearching, Searching
\nbut never finding because they seek
\nwith closed eyes and blind hands
\nShe shuffles slowly across this chaos
\nto recover her normal spot
\nholding with delicate the child\u00a0of her life
\nThe fruit of her labor
\nShe sets it down on the cobbled street floor gently
\nopening it and delicately withdrawing
\nThe weathered red violin<\/p>\n

Nestled against her neck, safe and secure
\nshe hovers the bow over the strings
\njust centimeters away from contact
\nSavoring the silence before sound
\nLovingly she lets the bow embrace the strings
\nletting them sing together in harmony
\nas young lovers who never grow old
\nShe closes her eyes and hears the symphonies of her time
\nhears the grand sounds of order being made from chaos
\nlistens to the fading cacophony of the street
\nand is drawn away into her violin
\nlike the guiding hand of her husband
\nat their very first dance<\/p>\n

But the burden of age causes her to quake
\nshaking the once steady hands of a musician
\ntransforming them into brittle bones
\nthat bow close to breaking on the weight of time
\nthe violin screams out uneven notes
\nwithout melody or harmony
\njust noise
\nnoise like the busy streets
\nor the baker yelling out the window
\nor a waiter being scolded for dropped dishes
\nthe chaos of the world
\nimprinted on each string
\nthat wails as each note of the world is drawn upon
\nShe hears it, she knows it
\nyet she continues to play
\nbecause in her mind the sound of symphonies
\nlost are almost regained<\/p>\n

With shaking hands she persists
\nshe knows nothing else than the feeling of the strings
\nvibrating with life under her touch
\nso she continues everyday
\non her little corner
\ndressed in her best
\nnever knowing which day will be her last
\nbut still she plays
\nbecause like Time
\nshe doesn’t know how to give up<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Weathered hands patiently adjust clothing that hangs looser everyday as time slowly wears away the very flesh of life Whittling away with an ever persistent knife That has had its blade at us since the beginning molding us from this shapeless lump of clay into something beautiful only to continue cutting away past the point […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[6,3],"tags":[118,369,1802,1803,1804,1065,291],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.multer.com\/people\/monica\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3970"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.multer.com\/people\/monica\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.multer.com\/people\/monica\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.multer.com\/people\/monica\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.multer.com\/people\/monica\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3970"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.multer.com\/people\/monica\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3970\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3975,"href":"https:\/\/www.multer.com\/people\/monica\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3970\/revisions\/3975"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.multer.com\/people\/monica\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3970"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.multer.com\/people\/monica\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3970"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.multer.com\/people\/monica\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3970"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}