Christmas 2011
It is a late hour. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I sit listening to Rachmaninoff’s Vocalise sung by Anna Moffo, which I would listen to on nights when I felt that the visitors were coming. They would cast such a spell over me on those nights, with their strangeness and their longing. They seemed far from home, but not physically; rather, from a home that is deep in the heart. They were seekers, looking for something they had lost, which was why, after my initial disquiet, I felt such a closeness to them.
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