Quick catch up; Thanksgiving went very well even though my uncle didn’t show up, it was nice to see old friends again and to see movies, which I almost never get to do at school (saw three here… oh well, they were all pretty good).

On to the post:

I’ve spent some time thinking about why I’m so infatuated with opera as of late and I’ve come to some sort of a conclusion. Opera music signifies everything that I haven’t been able to obtain. When two, of the most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard, sing a duet in that harmony and the words themselves flow so eloquently from verse to phrase. I can hear her beauty resonate through the words she is singing, how she knows with all her heart that she has that special something I might spend my entire life looking for. Yet all the while she pulls from the depths of her very soul and lets him see it, her partner in this dance of words. I can almost picture the harmonies dancing together upwards until they fade into the distance.

Then there is his voice, providing this base for her to build from. That without his voice, hers would be lost, as if in his own subtle way he is guiding her to being all that she can be. Through the harmony, for which he seems to ask for no credit, she shines. It doesn’t matter to me what the translation is, because I can feel the meaning. Furthermore, the words speak what my heart can’t put into words, words I wish I could tell her, when I see her. That if I opened my mouth it would only come out in a stream and contortion of words that would loose all definition and understanding.

Digressing and still stating a point… No matter how hard I try I can’t learn any language aside from English, at best I can patch together a partially coherent phrase in French. Let alone make it sound half as breath taking as they can. I try to string together words into poetry but know that it never turns out how I want. That it never turns out how I wish it too.

Fino ad allora, vivo per lei

Ed il dio di ciao benedicono,