Not Being Boring Is Quite A Challenge.

How Guilt Refined The Methods Of Self-torture, Threading The Beads Of Detail Into An Eternal Loop, A Rosary To Be Fingered For A Lifetime.

She Returned His Gaze, Struck By The Sense Of Her Own Transformation, And Overwhelmed By The Beauty Which A Lifetime Havit Had Taught Her To Ignore.

When He Thought Of Her, It Rather Amazed Him, That He Had Let That Girl With Her Violin Go. Now, Of Course, He Saw That Her Self-effacing Proposal Was Quite Irrelevant. All She Had Needed Was The Certainty Of His Love, And His Reassurance That There Was No Hurry When A Lifetime Lay Ahead Of Them. Love And Patience- If Only He Had Had Them Both At Once- Would Surely Have Seen Them Both Through.

What I've Discovered And Really Confirmed To Myself Is That Opera Really Likes Loud Colours, And You Need Something Bold, Something Savage, Unpredictable, Passionate. You Can't Really Run A Two-hour Opera Round Some Muted Murmuring.

Wasn't Writing A Kind Of Soaring, An Achievable Form Of Flight, Of Fancy, Of The Imagination?