02.07.08
Partita
(Variation on a theme by Nabokov)
Partita, plight of my life, fire of my joints.
My fin, my goal. Par-tee-ta: the tip of my tongue taking a trip of three steps, down the palette to tap, at three, on the ivory.
Par. Tee. Ta.
Reviewing an old Bach Partita +
Coffee +
Obsessing about Russians too much = This.
Haha =P
