Pianist unfamiliar, a very skilled contestant at a high-level competition.
I'm watching her technique. I'm taking-in her orange dress, her smooth arms, her arched wrists and fingers.
The occasional audience foot-shift. Jerry-built background curtain. Cut-up stage. Compartmentalized room.
Low coughs. Dead Debussy. Human, all-too-human, context.
What makes me hear something 'better' in what man composes than what I see of him moment by moment?
I want the transcendence. We do transcend. I do insist so hard.