Dear Kirk,
The Ipod chose "Cine Are Fata Mare" by Dona Dumitru Siminica this morning. Siminica with the suave mustache, the falsetto voice over gypsy accordian and violin. I have no idea what he's singing about. Something melancholic, something troubled, some kind of Romanian blues. I hear this music and my soul shifts within me. How can this be? I'm not Romanian. I have no nostalgia for this music and yet the plucked strings and wailing voice make me long for a time I never lived.
Soul: It's time we go to Bucharest. Drink wine with grandfather. Wine pressed by the feet of our gypsy cousins.
Me: How many times must I remind you that we have no grandfather in Bucharest, nor peasant cousins. Why must you live in dreams?
Soul: Listen to this music. Listen to your lust for blood roots. Now tell me who talks in dreams.
--Mark
No comments:
Post a Comment