I sat in the very old place.
I sat with a good number of other people.
Night was falling, it may have already fallen by this moment.
Music was in the air and already my soul was moved and my feet were tapping.
Then she stood up, her long hair, curly, falling past her shoulders. She stood still, in her long, dark dress. A light colored, knit of course, scarf around her neck.
At first I thought she was looking at us all.
But I don’t think she was. She was making soft sounds. I realized she was self tuning. Her voice.
Then she began.
Unaccompanied. And yet….there was something else there.
She sang in a language I could not understand, but I did.
In her voice, in her presence, I experienced music.
It lulled me.
My foot did not tap.
My body swayed, slightly.
And my eyes closed. I couldn’t open them once they closed-without effort. No one else was there.
I was alone.
I sat, in this very old place, and I heard, this very old music.
I was startled when she stopped…it felt like the continuum of life stopped short.
It felt intrusive, when I realized other people were still there.
I sat, in this very old place.
And did not want to leave where she had taken me.