He sang of nature, my handsome Orpheus. His voice. His voice!
I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. I pictured a sky. It was blue black, soft and dense as fur.
Across and over the expanse of night, into the velvet depths of it, light was scattered, enough for a thousand darknesses.
Patterns revealed themselves; the eye, exquisitely dazzled, sought out snail- shell whorls and shattered pearls, gods and beasts and planets.
As we stood still, yet we rotated, and, whilst turning, moved in a larger circle,
round and round the sun, and oh, the dizzying momentum of it...
The music stopped and there was a sudden, blurry movement. I stepped back, and quickly started to walk upstairs, my heart hammering.
Nothing. I stood on the upper landing and waited for a few minutes. Nothing.
I tiptoed down and placed myself outside his door again.
The music had started up once more, but I did not wish to disturb him.
I was only there to see where he lived, after all... there was no harm in looking. Mission accomplished.
It was sheer spendthrift madness, but once on the street, I hailed a passing black cab to take me home.
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