Saturday, January 19, 2008
I've always thought the violin produced tones of raw passion, be it the lingering dolce, or the plaintive doloroso.
Sometimes like the lick of honeyed sugar, sometimes a searing pain akin to a burning scar.
So harsh it's bewitching. So exquisite, it's liquid agony.
Primitive expression the result of carefully-controlled execution.
9:46 PM