Horatio Flora

by yudaica2013 ·

Shoes softly clapped his heels, carrying echoes in the corners of a dark alley. Horatio was a violinist and he was already past seventy. He was famous for his frenzied skill and typical of the composer's sullenness. He lived nearby in the old dilapidated house, whose walls inside were ischirkany soot burners. The room was always a heavy smell of paraffin and sometimes he eats into the lungs, filling them with lead weight. About Hor said that his whole life he has played as if he played last time. Tears were running down her cheeks at the moment when he touched a bow to the strings of his threadbare violin.

He lived in this, and no one could compete with his desire to sacrifice himself music. Here we have come to his door, Caruso knocks and tells us about his visit to the housekeeper Horatio Flora. Flora opens the door. And we entered the room, found the two sitting silently by the fireplace elderly. One I knew it Horatio, but was still second more gloomy and cold to an event that did not even pay me any attention either, but only shook hands with Caruso, invited him to sit down. Later I learned that it was an old artist who traveled the world in search of harmony and meaning life. The three of them sat at the table and slowly, slowly, dragged a conversation about his violent thoughts about that, as from time to time they are convinced of the insignificance of human existence.


Comments are closed.