A transmission of muted voices, after the fire
‘Our songs will all be silenced — but what of it? Go on singing.’ (Orson Welles, F for Fake)
1. Fire. With weighted reverberance
2. Rebeginnings. Between the chronicle and the chronically lyrical
3. Da capo. Anecdotes of destiny.
Can you explain yourself?’ I was asked once.
‘Explain myself?’ I replied, echoing one of Isak Dinesen’s dreamers and remembering Orson Welles. ‘You are asking much. You might say: “Disguise your meaning into such phrases as I am used to hear, which mean nothing”.’
Then I lost my voice.