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I haven't touched a piano in so many years. I couldn't play with such crippled fingers, even if I wanted to. For a time after my marriage I tried to keep up my music. But it was hopeless. One-night stands, cheap hotels, dirty trains, leaving children, never having a home — See, Cathleen, how ugly they are! So maimed and crippled! You would think they'd been through some horrible accident! So they have, come to think of it. I won't look at them. They're worse than the foghorn for reminding me — But even they can't touch me now. They're far away. I see them, but the pain has gone. (en) |
