More gashes across the mindless disconnected sentences. More crumpled paper balls. Yellow crumples, pink, powder blue, and now I’ve reached the green pages of my notepad. Before I construct a rainbow of sorts, I’d rather stop. And what’s the fun in doing it on a computer? After the painful cycle of deleting and restoring from the recycle bin my attempts at rudimentary prose, I empty the darned bin so that the rubbish is lost forever. 0’s and 1’s lost in an unfathomable silicon maze.
Memories of my puerile attempts at rhyme, insisting that the last two words of consecutive lines rhymed thus twisting the sentences into syntax horrors - descended upon me. I’ve been trying for some time now, to put pen to paper for reasons FAR from academic. But words don’t come out. My thought process and imagination have been eroded by years of wasteful rusting... imbibing whatever was taught to me and faithfully exuding those imbibed fluids onto examination sheets. Unquestioningly, in a manner expected of a good obedient student, I have been corroding my intellect by that continuum of absorption and desorption, interspersed with periods of blank, thoughtless idleness. My thoughts amble like aimless blades of dried grass meandering in the mini currents of a stream. Some wisps adhere to the muddy bank, while some, enmeshed together, gather bits of skeletonized leaves from here and there. Others disperse and get lost in the gurgling rush. No thread of continuity.
e movement. The Andante is also based on motivic structures to an unusual degree, and its sweetly lyrical character sometimes seems on the verge of being overwhelmed with more tensions like those of the introduction to the first movement, until the chromatic harmonies disperse and the sun reappears from behind the clouds.There is no Minuet movement in the Prague Symphony. In any case, it is unusual for Mozart to write a symphony with only three movements, and we do not know exactly why he did so. The very first idea of the lively and brilliant finale carries with it the suggestion of operatic comedy; the theme seems to evoke physical gesture on the stage. The first audiences can hardly have failed to imagine that Figaro and Susanna, favorite characters from the Mozart opera they had loved so much, were back again, here in a purely instrumental guise.
I got my yellow curtain from Sarojini Nagar market. It was the kind I was wanting for some time then. Checked, cotton, with wooden buttons. When I spotted one, it made my day.
