A Night Out

This evening I went to a beautiful orchestra concert. I meant to go alone, but it turns out that isn't easy when you know several people who are much more into music than you. I did take some time before the concert started to write a short scene. (That story in a monastery is still forthcoming)


There's an interesting mix of people at an event on a campus. Young and old, dressed up and down, they're all here. The lobby is filled with chatter and anticipation. Laughter, intellectual discussions, joy, and even questions about grading abound. The lights are bright, allowing me to see everything.

People continue to mill about in pairs or groups. They greet acquaintances and close friends - it's hard to tell the difference in an open public place like this. Introductions are made, awkward small talk follows. Someone walks in, glancing around. She smiles and waves - she's found the person she's looking for. The quality of the murmuring changes. There's an uptick in volume and then things die down, the doors have opened at last. The crowd thins out, but not everyone leaves just yet. A few groups remain, some talking to performers who have joined them and others just lost in their own conversations. these have moved beyond small talk to something worth staying for.

Eventually it's time for even the stragglers to move toward the concert hall. The lights are dimmer, and the noise of the chatter has increased. If I close my eyes it washes over me in waves, an ocean made by people. The orchestra begins to move on to the stage and gather their instruments. At first very few people pay attention, but then the tuing begins and the noise of the audience dies down - only to be replaced with notes over a hundred years old, filling my ears once again.


-Kat