“My voice can reach a radius of 85 cm”

No-one seems to want to help me. They always give me excuses. Again and again, tight mouths and hollow eyes, some wavering of voice, but generally the same, every time; like I’m some nuisance, but they don’t tell me that.

Who will sing with me? Who?

My mother tells me to find someone my age.

My friend tells me to find someone who is more compatible to me.

My best friend tells me to find a boy who can harmonise well with me.

My brother tells me to find someone with experience.

My father tells me to find my mother.

And so it repeats.

They tell me they’re busy. They tell me that they don’t have the talent. It’s always, “Look for someone else” or “Ah, not me.”

I want to sing with people I know, who have a voice, a personality. People who can instil feeling into their songs, who can think, who know.

People I love.

Isn’t it nicer to share your food with someone, than it is to eat by yourself, though you may have more?

From my high house in the clouds, the people below seem small, as though they are ants. But, maybe one of them has the will to sing with me. Who knows?

When will someone say “Yes, I will”?

When?

“My voice can reach a radius of 250cm”

Things must always have a balance.

No more, no less, otherwise there is chaos.

It’s exactly the same with music. If you have a Cello, you must balance it with the higher, whimsical tones of the Viola, or Violin. If you have a Piano, it in itself is balanced, reaching a very large range of notes. Of course the player must be in balance. Without the correct posture, without the correct position, they too create chaos.

Even chants or little games, like “Kagome Kagome”, a regular rhythm to a child’s game keeps everything in balance, and the person in the centre constantly rotates. The child playing the demon is never the same child for more than three rounds.

Perhaps it is the binding commitment that people think is there, that words bind them to some unseen, unspoken contract. Maybe they fear that somehow, someone will broach their bubble, and force them into something they don’t want to do.