Snow globes are, in my humble opinion, one of my favorite artifacts to collect. To see how perfect they are, how they resemble the most perfect shape I can think of. There are no sharp ends or unusual lines; it’s never ending and predictable. Me, acquiring two of them, am a victim of those powerful pupils that ensure me peace as the lights reflect on them.”
It is the theme of this girl’s composition, who in nerves seats to perform the most important work of art until now. Still, it is not easy that this ol’ boring, repetitive piece is about to play once again, but the audience sits and tolerates this once again just for pity. Everything is still, except for the little girl’s nervous arms, and the souless person who’s ready to cough as soon as she begins, Before the greatest performance is about to begin, everyone rolls their eyes in a perfect circle, followed by the hissing of the audience’s growls.
The concert hall is filled with the sound of her soul. Day and night did she sit down to pour her heart into it; one should have seen her. Even when that one person can’t stop coughing, she manages to convert these into part of meticulous rhythms in her piece. Suddenly, a big man, well tuxedo and in his forties, stood up in the middle of the performance, in standing ovation. “Quite odd,” She wondered, but it was probably just a mistake. The ovation just kept getting louder, and it began to irritate that poor girl who put her heart and soul in such delicate composition. To counteract, she also began to play louder in hope it would drown the lousy ovation. Yes, the outstanding ovation is what many performers strive for, the praise, the fame; isn’t that the result of a good performance? She had other plans though. It was a chance to predicate her philosophy, and shake that emotional brain of the audience… and now this insensitive man was taking her chance to do so.
…and now another man stands in ovation.
Two?
She began playing louder. Then, another person stands, and another, then another. Out of nowhere, everyone is standing, praising a yet unfinished work of art. This poor girl keeps getting louder, but what is the point of proclaiming her music, if nobody cares? Nobody cares, still they stand in ovation; “is it even for me?” she asks.
Shame.
…and everything begins to melt.
The chapel begins to melt,
the seats begin to melt.
The floor begins to melt,
and the bells,
and the omniscent cross,
and the piano as well.
The music score begins to melt.
People’s faces begin to melt,
and their hands.
Not their clothing though; that doesn’t melt. Everything else melts to the point when everything melted. She was left alone without anything except the audience’s clothing in an entirely black surrounding. There was nothing else to contemplate as the only art left laid standing confused with no audience to surprise.
She fell to the ground and said “It was just a performance.”
She is convinced.
December 25, 2019
Alex's Reflections 