| don't put the pepsi on the tray. |
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| but no answers. if i had the answers i'd just be even more annoyed at how we're such walking contradictions of what we say and how we act. ugh. |
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| it was unusually sunny on saturday so jing and i went out for a run. on the way back we heard singing as we walked by a church. i was curious but was hesitant to go in, afraid that our sweaty selves would be distracting to the congregation inside. jing prodded me to go with her so i reluctantly followed. turns out it was a choir rehearsal, and we were among a small handful of people who had, like us, passed by and tiptoed in, finding ourselves irresistably drawn to the sound.
they were singing in latin, and their voices reverberated throughout the empty church. rays of sunset came through the narrow windows as we sat in the back. the conductor stopped them every once in awhile to make a few reminders and hum a few notes to start them again. i wondered if he had perfect pitch in order to do that without any instruments or tools.
i basked in the moments after one phrase before the next one started, trying to catch the remnants of their voices as they bounced from the walls. i was reminded how much i revel in the precious seconds of silence at the end of a piece between the last note and the first clap, the moment where the conductor's hands are still suspended in the air, the bows frozen above the strings, the mouths still open, as if in awe of the height from which the lingering echoes fall, the wonderful weight of silence alleviated instantly by the startling sound of applause. (too often, though, it is cut short by a cough, a rustle of one's jacket, the creak of a seat, or worse, as i had witnessed during a live performance of yo-yo ma, by the ring of a cellphone.)
this time there was no applause, only silence, and i smiled in my heart and thanked God for the perfect afternoon.
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