#Liszt fever

[opera-ghosts]

OTD in Music History: After nearly a decade of constant touring – a unbelievable endeavor that was almost certainly the most extensive and exhaustive artistic journey ever undertaken by any individual in human history up to that point – Franz Liszt (1811 – 1886) gives his final public performance as a paid professional concert pianist in Elisatbetgrad (in what is now Ukraine) in 1847. True to this word, he never again accepts a fee to perform in public. The period between 1839 - 1847 was by far Liszt's most active period as a pianist. (In later years, he focused much more on composing, conducting, and teaching.) Indeed, in many ways, it was his activity during this period which created the image of him which still persists in the public consciousness to this day. Honors were showered on the handsome young man across Europe (and parts of Asia), and Liszt was met with adulation wherever he went. Since he often appeared three or four times a week in concert, it can safely be assumed that he performed well over a *thousand* times during this eight-year period… and this in an era when travel was still conducted by stagecoach and it could take hours, if not days, just to bumpily travel from one major city to the next. After 1842, “Lisztomania" – a term coined by 19th-century German poet Heinrich Heine (1797 - 1856) – began to sweep across Europe. Women fought over Liszt’s silk handkerchiefs and velvet gloves, which they ripped to shreds and stuffed away as souvenirs. Surviving written accounts testify that Liszt's mere physical presence in the room was capable of raising the mood of his (heavily female) audiences to a level of “near-mystical ecstasy”... PICTURED: A c. 1890s cabinet photo showing a famous profile engraving of Liszt (c. 1840). This particular photo was signed and inscribed on the back by Pauline Apel, who served as Liszt’s housekeeper for thirty years. When Liszt’s last residence in Weimar (the “Hofgärtnerei”) was turned into a museum shortly after his death, Apel was appointed as the official tourist guide. She served in that role until her own death nearly forty years later. For a fee, she would sign items like this as mementos for visitors.

#opera #classical music #music history #bel canto #composer #classical composer #aria #classical studies #Franz Liszt #Liszt #virtuoso pianist #virtuoso #pianist #classical pianist #conductor #teacher #pedagogue #Romantic period #Lisztomania #Liszt fever #Orchestra #Symphony #classical musician #classical musicians #classical history #historian of music #maestro #symphonic poem #Étude #Sonata

[pilferingapples]

 Then, on April 15, just as (Dumas) was accompanying to the stairway Liszt, the pianist, and Boulanger, the painter, who had been drinking black tea with him to fortify themselves against the disease, he felt his legs give way. There was a blinding flash in his eyes and a shivering sensation in his skin. He had the plague. Fortunately for him, that night during his fever he swallowed half a bottle of ether which had inadvertently been left on the table. It seemed to him that he had swallowed "the sword of the angel of extermination," but it saved his life. 

WHAT

(more from The Fourth Musketeer, which...I cannot really recommend, and it's got a LOT of casual racism going on , but it's also got enough that I recognize from other sources that I'm inclined to trust that its accounts are not all invented, or at least were invented elsewhere first, and so)

W H A T

A BOTTLE OF ETHER???

#the cholera #Alexander Dumas

[eclipsedshadowk]

What is it that you like about Salieri? When I was still in school it was mandatory to watch amadeus in music class and he was not really depicted in a favourable light imo, but I may have also forgotten some crucial parts. So what is it that you enjoy about him? (This is by no means shade)

First off, same with the mandatory watching of Amadeus. I honestly slept through it when I was 13-14 years old because I was depressed bean stuck in a toxic environment. I hate to admit that I wasn't a fan of the 1984 movie, though I don't mind watching it.

Second, it was Mozart L'opèra Rock that made me love Salieri so fucking much. I don't remember what made me love and hyperfixate on the guy. Salieri in Mozart L'opèra Rock has a kind of poetry to his character, even though it has some basis on Amadeus. His vibe somehow captured me and maybe the fact that his songs were easy to play on guitar kinda helped with that. He was enigmatic when he first appeared, @antoniosalieri's analysis on the guy made me open to the symbolisms of his songs and the guy was such a distinguished bi disaster, even though they made him quote on quote "sexually ambiguous".

But it was my curiosity on what's up with him and Mozart made me want to learn more about him and his life.

I learned that he was a crucial part of the entire history of classical music, being the teacher of such people who became famous like Beethoven, Schubert and Liszt, he taught people who aren't royalty for free, he handed out golden buttons to children who were impoverished as a roundabout way of helping. I learned that despite the rumors of him "poisoning" Mozart and their professional rivalry, they were still friends and Salieri still taught Franz Xaver, who was Mozart's youngest son. I learned that he became a father figure to his students and he was a loving father to his son and daughters (the death of Alois Engelbert in September of 1805 affected him so much that he became paralyzed and mute with grief). I learned he was taught of music by Gluck, Gassmann and his brother, Francesco, how as a child he seemed to have had a love for music and how likely it was that he had a prodigal talent of his own. I learned of how he is often tossed around like a hot potato before landing to Vienna when he became orphaned at 13-14 years old. I learned of other things too, like how he had a sweet tooth (to the point there were instances of Mozart calling him 'Signor Bonbonière'), how he sneaked out to see his brother perform in festivals which lead to him getting locked up by his father, how he jumped onto an old spinet because the owner was too frugal to replace the broken thing, how he often joked about having terrible German despite having lived there for most of his life ever since he was fifteen, small moments like him treating Schubert out and buying him ice cream.

I like some of the other interpretations of Salieri as well. Fate/Grand Order has an almost similar characterization to Mozart L'opèra Rock's, except more edgy and I love how Lostbelt 1 handled him. Classi9 clearly has an inspiration to Amadeus' but I somehow want to see more of this Salieri. I would like to know of Crash Fever's Salieri, but I like how Alice Fiction's Salieri is a break from the edgy anti-villain that was inspired by Amadeus, which in turn was inspired by Pushkin's. Alice Fiction's Salieri may look like a generic anime girl, but she's adorable and soft to me. Rhythmstar's Salieri may have kept the poisoning rumor, but I love how they kept him as a teacher and I can't wait to see the spin-off game where he is the main character, I kinda want to see ANB elaborate on him.

There's even a fucking musical on Salieri, but it's in Korean, with no subtitles and there's only clips of it available, so it's kinda sad, even though I want to see its story.

I don't quite remember what made me so hyperfixated on him, but damn do I love Antonio Salieri so fucking much

[franzliszt-official]

THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT 🔥🔥🔥‼️‼️❗️sorry liszt I dont wish 2 have sexual relations with you … I meant i would like 2 bite u . Like cannibalistically 😞

This still sounds sexual to me

If you plan on getting any nutrition from me, you'll gnaw on bones. I run on a persistent state of fever (both Artistic and Bodily)

#bewildered... #defrattul #franz antwortet #official composers #classical music #franz liszt

[foreverpraying]

November 19 is the feast day of Elizabeth of Hungary

Elizabeth of Hungary by Francisco de Zurbarán

Elizabeth was the daughter of King Andrew II of Hungary and Gertrude of Merania. In 1221, at the age of fourteen, Elizabeth married Louis IV, Landgrave of Thuringia; the same year he was enthroned as Landgrave, and the marriage appears to have been happy. Below Wartburg Castle, she built a hospital with twenty-eight beds and visited the inmates daily to attend to them.

Elizabeth's life changed irrevocably on 11 September 1227 when Louis, en route to join the Sixth Crusade, died of a fever in Otranto, Italy, just a few weeks before the birth of her daughter Gertrude.  Upon hearing the news of her husband's death, Elizabeth reportedly said, "He is dead. He is dead. It is to me as if the whole world died today."  Elizabeth built a hospital at Marburg for the poor and the sick with the money from her dowry, where she and her companions cared for them.

http://www.itmonline.org/bodytheology/stelizabeth.htm

Miracle of the Roses

Elizabeth is perhaps best known for her miracle of the roses which says that whilst she was taking bread to the poor in secret, she met her husband Ludwig on a hunting party, who, in order to quell suspicions of the gentry that she was stealing treasure from the castle, asked her to reveal what was hidden under her cloak. In that moment, her cloak fell open and a vision of white and red roses could be seen, which proved to Ludwig that God's protecting hand was at work.

Her husband, according to the vitae, was never troubled by her charity and always supported it. In some versions of this story, it is her brother in law, Heinrich Raspe, who questions her. Hers is one of many miracles that associate Christian saints with roses.

Crucifix in the bed

Another story told of Elizabeth, also found in Dietrich of Apolda's Vita, relates how she laid the leper Helias of Eisenach in the bed she shared with her husband. Her mother-in-law, who was horrified, told this immediately to Ludwig on his return. When Ludwig removed the bedclothes in great indignation, at that instant "Almighty God opened the eyes of his soul, and instead of a leper he saw the figure of Christ crucified stretched upon the bed." This story also appears in Franz Liszt's oratorio about Elizabeth.

In 1231, Elizabeth died in Marburg at the age of twenty-four.

https://www.dia.org/art/collection/object/saint-elizabeth-hungary-54513

source: https://wikipedia.org

#saint elizabeth of hungary #jesus christ #love #peace #christianity

[dmoonyb]

Short Poems #1

“Fingers” My yellow fingers Sore and tired  Damn you Liszt  Your white fingers  Quite the privilege

“Fruits” Yellow Kiwi tells Yellow Apple that  Yellow Cherry is Yellow Orange yet Yellow Loquet hates Yellow Plum since Yellow Melon is Yummy squishy

“The Desert” Oh Desert, Tenderness of fever Yet damp inside within warm moist sands Sights of firm cacti with lofty flowers Auras of arid, yet musty scent of air Giving solitude and glee Oh nature, what a climatic beauty

#short poetry #free verse #poetry

[historical-babes]

Franz Schubert (1797-1828).

19th-century Austrian composer.

.

He was an Austrian composer of the late Classical and early Romantic eras. Despite his short lifetime, Schubert left behind a vast oeuvre.

.

Note: "Schubert left a vast prolific œuvre of 600+ Lieder and 1500+ instrumental music during his 31 years of life... A musical soirée called 'Schubertiade' is honored from his name, sponsored by wealthier friends and aficionados, now beig held widely as the celebration of his music. He was nicknamed 'Schwammerl' (Little Mushroom) by his friends because of his small stature."

.

In 1808, he became a pupil at the Stadtkonvikt school, where he became acquainted with the orchestral music of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. He left the Stadtkonvikt at the end of 1813, and returned home to live with his father, where he began studying to become a schoolteacher; despite this, he continued his studies in composition with Antonio Salieri and still composed prolifically.

.

In 1821, Schubert was granted admission to the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde as a performing member, which helped establish his name among the Viennese citizenry. He gave a concert of his own works to critical acclaim in March 1828, the only time he did so in his career. He died eight months later at the age of 31, the cause officially attributed to typhoid fever, but believed by some historians to be syphilis.

.

Appreciation of Schubert's music while he was alive was limited to a relatively small circle of admirers in Vienna, but interest in his work increased significantly in the decades following his death. Felix Mendelssohn, Robert Schumann, Franz Liszt, Johannes Brahms and other 19th-century composers discovered and championed his works. Today, Schubert is ranked among the greatest composers of Western classical music and his music continues to be popular.

.

Some famous works:

Symphony no. 9 in C major

Erlkönig

Trout Quintet

Ave Maria

Piano Sonata no. 21 in B-flat Major

[Submission]

[briefconnoisseurwolf]

Fluffcember: Day 5 for Nocturne

Day 5 has passed and I used a different story, but Nocturne decided it wanted a turn with this prompt.

WIP: Nocturne No. 20

Logline: A tale of two composers in 1830s Paris. Don’t worry, historians, they’re just very dear friends.

Genre: LGBTQ+ fiction, romance, biographical/historical fiction, new adult, supposedly literary fiction

Characters involved: Franz Liszt, Monsieur Jean-Bale, Fryderyk Chopin, Auguste Franchomme, and other friends that may appear (but not frequently enough to liszt)

Tag list: @onthefrits​ @typewriter-jade​ @vylyk​ @notwritinganyflufftoday​

NaNo is over, but Nocturne isn’t! If you would like to be added to (or removed from) the tag list, please let me know! Nocturne No. 20 also has its own blog [tag/link here]

#######################################################

Day 5: Gentle Touch

“Careful, careful.” Auguste said gently as he helped Chopin sit upright and move to the edge of the bed. Pain was etched in his scrunched brow and twisted the corner of his mouth. Chopin’s shirt was soaked through along the neck and back from his broken fever. “Do you feel strong enough for a bath?”

Chopin’s lips twitched with a possible response. He pressed them together and nodded, straightening his shoulders.

Auguste wiped a lock of hair from Chopin’s forehead and rested a hand against his cheek. His skin was still damp, but cooler. “I’ll run one for you.”

#nocturne no.20 #wip #writing #not actually in the novel #fluffcember

[min-minn]

Symphony - Chapter Five

A03

Summary: Viktor Nikiforov, tenor prodigy and top student at the Salchow Institute of Music, is looking for an accompanist.

And word around campus is that Yakov Feltsman, Head of Music and conductor of the prestigious Institute Band, is looking for new members.

Yuuri Katsuki is just looking to survive his next Piano recital

OR

The Yuri on CONCERT Music School AU that we all deserve

Pairings: Viktor Nikiforov/ Yuuri Katsuki

Rating: Teen And Up

Content Warning: Anxiety

A/N: *bows profusely* I'm so so sorry it took me this long, and I'm sorry it was a bit of a shorter chapter!

After finishing Fever I had to literally purge myself and get my mind back into this fic properly. This chapter felt like a bit of a warm up - getting ready to throw myself into the deep end that is the story to come. AND BOY AM I READY to throw myself in. I've never wanted to write something so much in my life.

AND ITS THANKS TO ALL OF YOU GREMLINS! Thank you so much for all of the support - I actually don't know how to describe how much it encourages me. Knowing there's people out there who actually want to listen to some crazy story I've dreamt up, it makes me want to wake up in the morning. I hope I can do this story justice and give you some half-decent food to keep us all satiated until YOI gets back from the war...

No music this chapter, but there'll be plenty in the next one! I'm writing it as we speak!I also hope to update this fic on a bit of a stricter schedule - After this weekend I'll be posting a new chapter (sometimes two) every Monday night PST! (Give or take because I'm at the other end of the world and Monday night is actually Tuesday evening for me~) I really want to challenge myself to write this fic as fully as I can, and I don't like keeping people waiting!

And also, of course, find me on twitter or tumblr if you have any questions. I also do art when my brain wants a break from writing which I post there, and I've met some great members of the YOI fandom already around my art and writing so I'm always open to making more! (YALL KNOW WHO YOU ARE, YOU SICKENINGLY BEAUTIFUL HUMANS)

ANYWAY LOTS OF BELATED LOVE,

- Min

Shortly after the practice session, Yuuri had completely thrown himself into his study. His anxiety was nothing new - after however many years of bathroom stalls and car parks and stage wings soaked in fear, the panic attacks were like old friends. And every time they rolled through him, passing through like a tornado and leaving him weak, his first thought was always music.

At least he had his music.

As a child, Yuuri had been blessed with plenty of time to practice. His life was easy-going in Hasetsu - school was simple, friends were simple, home was simple. If anything threw him into an anxious spin, nobody paid any mind when he would slip away quietly to his room, or sprint to Minako’s then studio to use her grand. It was a sort of therapy, he’d decided. There were probably better ways for him to find relief - ways that didn’t border on obsession - but he reasoned that if it worked, if it wasn’t hurting anyone else, then how bad could it be?

When he’d practice to calm himself, it didn’t matter what he played, so long as his fingers were moving along the keys. Sometimes it was Liszt. Sometimes Chopin. Sometimes jazz or simple accompaniment pieces. He even had a small folder of pop songs and film scores that slipped into his rotation every now and then. Phichit always loved listening to Yuuri play pieces from The King and the Skater – his ‘absolute favourite movie of all time, no exceptions’- though that usually only happened when they were drinking at home, Phichit screeching along at the top of his lungs while Yuuri stumbled his way through the chords.

Now that Yuuri was focussed on his thesis and composition, he had plenty to fill up his practice time. And so, after the disastrous practice session, blinded slightly by tears and desperate to get his hands on his keyboard, bitterly afraid of running into Viktor, he’d come home with Phichit and all but chained himself to his piano. Had run over the notes from his last session with Lilia. Practiced scales and glissandos and tremolos until his nails dug into his skin. Written pages after pages of ideas - notes erased and moved like chess pieces across the bars. Ideas scrawled in fine pencil in the margins - sometimes in English, sometimes in Japanese.

Very soon, as the days drifted past, the events of that practice session - and with it, the painful thoughts of Viktor - drowned into quiet at the back of his mind. Phichit was kind enough not to bring it up, though he was quite busy with his own practice and some latest video project he’d been commissioned to do.

Sometimes the thoughts would resurface - particularly if Yuuri spotted a flash of silver hair across the quad, or heard someone say his name in passing - but all in all, Yuuri felt he was slowly putting the whole thing behind him.

It had been a relatively productive week by the time Yuuri’s next session with Lilia rolled around. He was still slightly nervous - certain that she’d be just as cold and ruthless as their first meeting - but the edge was taken off ever so slightly since he knew, now, what to expect. He almost felt comforted, knowing with certainty that he was going to be chewed up and spat out by the diva. Kind of fitting.

He deserved it, after all.

Because that was the one constant as his mind reeled. As he tried to make sense of the strange events surrounding Viktor. As he tried to reason and brute force his way through all his emotions with some sort of logic.

He wasn’t good enough for him. Wasn’t good enough for The Institute Band. Wasn’t good enough to even be here at SIM…

“Do I have your complete attention, Mr. Katsuki?” A voice cut across his thoughts.

“Oh! Yes, Madame Baranovskaya. Of course,” he quickly straightened in the piano stool, Lilia was a constant presence behind him as she scanned his movements. He’d drifted off while playing again – working his way through the first movement of his composition piece to try and show her what he’d been working on.

“I admire your appreciation of the musicality of your piece, Mr. Katsuki, but we’re strictly working on tempo today,” she said coolly, eyes flashing as she looked down at him. Yuuri’s heart sank ever so slightly – if only he could keep his mind in check for one second perhaps he’d be worthy of Lilia’s time. But, of course, who was he kidding? He hardly had any right to be here, under her supervision, let alone at this school…

“And I do believe,” she said in an oddly soft tone, “This piece was originally intended to be played in a major key, correct?”

Yuuri blinked, furrowing his brow. Had he been playing in a minor key? He could hardly remember…

“Yes, of course” he dipped his head in embarrassment.

“Celestino did warn me about your tendency to get lost in the music,” she continued, pursing her lips as she appraised him. Her gaze never failed to set his teeth on edge. Like he was on display, completely exposed and slowly being picked apart. He swallowed as the silence dragged on, bracing himself for the inevitable reprimand.

“You can use that to your advantage, if you have someone skilled enough to record your playing,” and her voice was rather quiet. Almost as if she were speaking to herself. “You have a unique way of phrasing that would do you wonders if you were actually paying attention.”

Yuuri tried to hide the blush he could feel warming his ears at her words. Was it …meant to be some kind of compliment? He’d never heard someone speak that way about his playing before.

“I’ll see what I can do,” and her voice was back to its usual strict tone. “For now, Mr. Katsuki. Tempo.”

Their session lasted most of the afternoon, the sun dipping low as they came to a close after hours of metronome instructed exercises and Lilia’s constant reprimands and observations. It felt like Yuuri had run a mental marathon by the time she called the session to a close.

But it was a good feeling, in its own way. He knew he’d hardly have the mental energy to worry about running into Viktor on his way to the bus. To worry about what Lilia really thought of him as a student. It was like a kind of mental static – too exhausted to even bring up coherent thoughts as he slowly packed his sheet music and notes away.

Lilia offered him a few pointers for his practice at home, giving strict instructions for their next session. He bid her farewell and made his way to the door, only to be stopped by the sound of her clearing her throat.

“And, Mr. Katsuki,” she called after him. He turned back toward her and took in her severe silhouette as she stood by the grand, expression unreadable.

“Congratulations,” she said, mouth a hard line, though her eyes seemed … uncharacteristically warm.

Yuuri blinked.

“Congratulations?” he asked quietly.

Congratulations for what?

“Try not to celebrate too much this weekend,” and Yuuri all but choked as he watched Lilia … smile? It was thin, hardly reaching her eyes, but it was a smile nonetheless.

Celebrate?

What on earth—

Yuuri didn’t get the chance to question her, however, as her phone suddenly rang loudly, filling the room with a strange ringtone. Some kind of high staccato singing. She picked it up quickly and waved for him to leave, greeting whoever had called in a stoic manner.

Yuuri hurried out of the room. The whole meeting was quite strange – stranger than his first meeting that still gave him chills when he remembered how cold Lilia had been with him. Despite how exhausted he felt, he couldn’t help but gnaw on the thought in his mind;

Why had she congratulated him?

He was still worrying away at the question when he rounded the corner and came into one of the common areas. It was a large, spacious room with high ceilings – couches and coffee tables huddled in one corner with tables and chairs filling what remained. There were large expanses of wall space taken up by posters and flyers of every kind. It was the main common area at the school – the one where all of the latest news and postings always ended up. Things like simple advertisements for local concerts or gigs that students were involved in. Flyers looking for roommates or accompanists.

But there was also one wall dedicated to official postings. It was a dividing wall that cut through the room, and it was often crowded at this time of year.

Today it was positively crammed with students.

The noise was overwhelming, Yuuri finding himself flinching ever so slightly as he realised how many people he’d have to pass just to get to the exit. There was shouting and screaming, what sounded like someone practicing scales on a clarinet. There was laughter, and as the crowd came into view, Yuuri could see countless people jostling each other for space around the wall.

Yuuri distantly remembered that today was important, though he couldn’t remember why. There must be a posting – parts for the SIM Musical perhaps? Or maybe there’d been new chairs announced for the orchestra?. Yuuri knew none of it would apply to him, however. He hadn’t auditioned in years, preferring to just focus on the orchestra when he needed to. He ducked his head to make sure nobody recognised him, tucking his chin into his scarf and making his way toward the exits.

A familiar voice rang out across the din and he froze in his tracks.

“Yuuri! Yuuri, over here!”

Viktor.

Viktor’s voice.

His legs turned to water the second the realisation hit him, and he barely had the strength to turn towards the sound. He cursed his high-functioning anxiety for choosing to auto-pilot right at that moment. He wanted nothing more than to pretend he hadn’t heard him and bolt for the doors, but his body seemed to move on its own. Wooden and puppeteered by years of trying to appear normal in social situations. Not to mention the uncomfortable flip his heart did in his chest that took control of his pulse quickly.

He turned to see Viktor standing at the front of the crowd, shouldering his way through and making his way towards him with a beaming grin lighting up his features. It almost hurt to look at. Like staring straight into the sun.

Yuuri figured Viktor must be greeting him out of pity. He could see a few of the school’s best and brightest hanging near where Viktor was standing by the posting wall, so it was unsettling to see Viktor prying himself away from his elite friends, focussed on Yuuri instead. Christophe Giacometti, the school’s top double bassist, stood out instantly, his curly blonde hair all too visible in the sea of browns and blacks. He was one of Viktor’s closest friends, Yuuri knew, and the man seemed to be shouting something after Viktor, though his voice was lost as someone blasted a note on a trombone nearby.

“Congratulations, Yuuri!” Viktor cried, breaking free of the crowd and all but running over to him. The uneasiness of Lilia’s words returned with full force.

Congratulations for what?

“V—Viktor,” Yuuri said in a small voice by way of a greeting, though it sounded more like a question, a deep sense of dread beginning to work it’s way into his chest. He hadn’t spoken with Viktor since their last practice – hadn’t replied to the one text message he’d sent. He hadn’t even opened it, too petrified of what it might entail to even read the opening line. Viktor would surely be offended at Yuuri’s silence. It had been just over a week since their practice, after all.

“I’m so thrilled you decided to audition in the end,” Viktor said breathlessly, rearranging his shirt after being tossed around in the crowd. He stood just slightly too close, eyes bright as he watched Yuuri with all the excitement of a child.

Wait…

Audition?

“Wh—what?” Yuuri’s voice came out as a strangled squeak as he felt himself grow pale. Audition? As in—?

But before he could finish the thought, another familiar voice rang out across the room. He turned to see Phichit, red-faced and gasping for air as he all but sprinted toward Yuuri from the doors on the other side of the room, saxophone slung precariously across his shoulder, satchel bouncing against his hip as he ran.

“Yuuri my love!” He all but screamed, crashing into Yuuri with full force, crushing him in a hug. Yuuri barely had time to register Viktor clearing his throat behind him, crying out as Phichit tackled him.

“I’m so sorry! Did you find out already? Shit! I can’t believe I missed it! All that work for nothing,” and around Phichit’s senseless rambling Yuuri managed to gasp a few confused words and worm his way out of the hug.

“Phichit, what on earth is going on—?” but there was another strong grip on his shoulder that froze the words in his throat, Yuuri crying out in shock as he spun around. It was Otabek – the Otabek, from their practice session. And he was standing over him, clapping him on the back, face stoic as he nodded. The man offered a thumbs up, blinking once, not saying a word, before walking past him toward the exit. Yuuri watched him wide-eyed and more confused than ever as Otabek wandered toward a small figure with a guitar slung over his back.

Toward Yuri. The other Yuri. With blonde hair peeking out from a black hoodie, leopard print across its back. The smaller man glanced back to him with piercing eyes, waving at him in a way that seemed almost … friendly?

It was all too much. Why were they all here? Why was Yuri waving at him? Why was Viktor bouncing up and down where he stood, Phichit running his mouth like a stream?

Why was everyone so excited?

“Phichit,” Yuuri’s voice was weak, breaking ever so slightly as that same sense of dread bloomed into full-blown fear. “What's going on?”

“Huh?” Phichit glanced at him worriedly, stopping his rambling as he took in Yuuri’s expression, though he still had a ridiculously wide grin plastered on his face. “What do you mean?”

“Why is everyone congratulating me?” Yuuri whispered, eyes darting nervously between his best friend and Viktor as they stood, watching him like he was the only person in the world who didn’t know…

“Oh, Yuuri…” Phichit’s eyes grew wide, his feet shuffling as he took a tentative step closer, hand reaching out instinctively. “It’s okay, don’t—“

“What did he mean by audition, Phichit?” Yuuri said distantly, the light from the wide windows flashing off his glasses, eyes hidden.

Phichit swallowed.

“Yuuri, I need you to take deep breaths,” Phichit said slowly, two hands out now. Wary.

“What did you do?” Yuuri all but whispered, feeling his stomach threaten to drop to the floor. Surely not. Surely Phichit would never…

“Well,” Phichit swallowed again, rubbing the back of his neck and throwing Viktor a desperate look. “You know that, ah, project? The video one?”

“You didn’t,” Yuuri breathed, taking a small step backwards as his legs threatened to give way. He could fit the pieces together easily enough. The video project. An audition. All the strange secrecy and vague answers.

“I may or may not have,” and Phichit’s eyes were concerned. Fearful. But there was that typical sparkle of mischief and excitement that – in any other circumstance – would have won Yuuri over.

But this was…

“Wait, what’s going on?” Viktor asked cheerily, face slightly confused as he glanced between the two friends. He spoke like someone at ease with slotting himself into conversations, and Yuuri found himself marvelling at the social confidence, despite it all.

“Ah, I’m a terrible friend,” Phichit said with an exasperated smile. “I filmed our practice the other day and sent it to Yakov by way of an audition.”

Yuuri felt like all of the words were coming at him from a great distance – like he’d suddenly slipped into a well, sound and light having trouble reaching his senses. Audition. Practice. Yakov. Film…

“Yuuri please, hear me out,” Phichit said quickly. “I knew you’d never have the balls to audition on your own and now the hard part’s out of the way! You were accepted!”

Yuuri blinked.

“No I wasn’t,” he whispered matter-of-factly, shaking his head ever so slightly. He couldn’t have been accepted, it must have been some kind of mistake.

“But you were, Yuuri!” Viktor said with a dazzling grin, eyes bright as he reached and gripped Yuuri by the shoulders. The touch sent flames licking along Yuuri’s veins, and if it weren’t for Viktor’s strong grip, he knew he would have fallen right then and there.

“Come and see!” and he was suddenly being whisked through the crowd, bodies pressing against him tightly as Viktor reached down to hold his hand, tugging him along after him like a kite, Phichit trailing behind with a steadying hand on his back.

They made their way to the posting wall, faces crammed towards the small piece of paper pinned to the centre of the board.

It read, in a simple non-descript font:

2016 Institute Band Members

Saxophones

Alto: Phichit Chulanont

Tenor1: Guang Hong Ji

Tenor2: Leo De La Iglesia

Trumpets

1st: Jean-Jaques Leroy

2nd: Sara Crispino

3rd: Seung-gil Lee

Trombones

1st: Emil Nikola

2nd: Michele Crispino

Rhythm

Double Bass: Christophe Giacometti

Guitar: Yuri Plisetsky

Percussion: Otabek Altin

Piano: Yuuri Katsuki

Vocalists

Viktor Nikiforov

Mila Babicheva

Practice this Thursday, March 16th, 6pm sharp

- Yakov Feltsman

Yuuri felt the ground fall away beneath him.

“Yuuri? Yuuri!” Phichit managed to catch him as he fell, holding his shoulders firmly and giving them a slight shake.

Yuuri distantly registered that Viktor was still holding him by the hand…

“It can’t be real,” Yuuri whispered, attempting to steady himself. Yakov had seen him practice – had seen his lack-lustre playing with Viktor and Yuri and Otabek there to outshine him at every turn. Had seen it and …

Accepted him?

“I can assure you, it’s real,” Viktor said with a smile, and as Phichit helped Yuuri stay on his feet, Yuuri noticed that Viktor was smiling at him warmly. But his eyes were … troubled? He seemed to be searching Yuuri’s face, trying to figure something out…

“I’m … sorry,” Yuuri managed to squeeze out, heart clenching painfully as he realise that Vikor was probably disappointed. Probably angry that Yuuri had run him around. “I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble…”

And Viktor’s face fell into a mask of confusion, brows knitting together as those piercing blue eyes continued to search Yuuri’s face. Despite the raucousness of the room, Yuuri couldn’t help but feel himself getting lost in them. Reminded of their first practice session at Minako’s studio…

And Viktor seemed to be about to say something, eyes fervent as he wet his lips, but a hand on Viktor’s shoulder had him turning around before he could speak.

“Congratulations, everyone!” a lilting voice cut across the crowd. Christophe Giacometti. He was about the same height as Viktor, leaning in to offer a knowing smile to Yuuri and Phichit as he joined their little circle at the front of the crowd, pressed close together.

“It’ll be nice to finally have some … fresh meat,” and Yuuri watched on in horror as Christophe licked his lips, eyes heavy-lidded. He seemed to be directing his flirting towards Phichit, who took it in his stride easily.

“I do hope you’re gentle with me,” and he laughed, light and easy. Of course. It was all so easy for him. For everyone.

Yuuri found himself running down the list again, taking in every name and feeling his heart stutter uncomfortably in his chest when he saw his own name nestled among them. He knew them all – all accomplished musicians. All ridiculously talented. All self-assured and socially confident and…

“Let’s get a drink to celebrate!” Christophe exclaimed, wrapping an arm effortlessly around Viktor’s shoulder.

Oh.

Oh.

Yuuri took in the gesture and felt a strange twist in his gut.

“Yes!” Phichit jumped on the spot, pumping his fist and letting out another giggle of excitement. Yuuri reached for Phichit’s sleeve, tugging ever so slightly to get his attention. No. Not drinking…

Phichit seemed to notice, chewing on his lower lip and leaning in to try and speak with him in confidence.

“Come on, Yuuri,” Phichit whispered behind his hand, making eyes at him that made Yuuri feel guilty and angry and... “I know you’re freaking out right now but trust me. This will do you the world of good,” and before Yuuri could protest, Phichit suddenly creased his brow and gave him a pleading look, eyes darting back to Christophe pointedly, who was now chatting away with a few of the other members who had gathered around them.

Yuuri took the hint. Phichit had had a crush on Chris for as long as Yuuri had had a crush on Viktor. Of course, Phichit would want to take up the opportunity to go out drinking with him.

In the whirl of emotions and shock and terror that started to simmer just under Yuuri’s skin, Yuuri found himself helpless when he saw Phichit’s expression. When he turned and saw Viktor’s expression, wrapped in Chris’ arms and gazing after him…

Hopefully?

“Oh do come, Yuuri,” Viktor said gently, eyes warm, mouth set in a soft smile. “At least let me buy you a drink to apologise.”

Yuuri furrowed his brow and moved to speak; “Apologise?” But the words were lost as his voice broke and Chris let loose a loud laugh. There was another tall man with a trumpet case in hand – Jean-Jaques, Yuuri distantly recalled – talking with him. Was he coming too?

Yuuri felt like he was drowning. Everyone wanted to celebrate. All smiles and laughter and loud, loud, loud.

And between Phichit’s desperate puppy dog eyes and Viktor’s piercing blue stare, Yuuri found himself nodding, though everything screamed at him to run.

#symphony #minminnsfics #fic #music school AU #alternate universe #AO3 #fan fiction #yuri on ice #yoi

[cicadaemon-moved]

liszt looking at a piano: okay what if I just went hogwild like what if I went completely buck crazy got some beaver fever on this thing just go absolutely feral

#i will never forgive you for la campanella #my hands HURT thinking about the time I tried mastering it #ofc i wasnt successful

[opera-ghosts]

OTD in Music History: Legendary 19th Century composer, conductor, and pianist Franz Liszt (1811 – 1886) dies in Bayreuth, Germany. The story of Liszt’s final ten days, which were spent at Bayreuth, is a very sad one. At the time of his death, the 74-year-old composer – who had been suffering from the effects of congestive heart failure for some time and who had never fully recovered from a bad fall down a flight of stairs in Weimar in 1881 – was already in a state of pronounced physical decline. Per music critic Alex Ross: “Liszt in his final years was attended round the clock by Lina Schmalhausen [1864 - 1928], a fanatical pupil who was probably also in love with him... Cosima [Liszt’s daughter and Richard Wagner’s (1813 – 1883) widow] had asked her famous father to attend the Bayreuth Wagner Festival of 1886, on the ground that it badly needed his support. He arrived already suffering from pneumonia, but Cosima’s doctor missed the seriousness of his condition... Liszt then dragged himself to performances of Wagner’s ‘Parsifal’ and ‘Tristan,’ suppressing a cough throughout... but he repeatedly expressed his annoyance that he was falling sick in Bayreuth of all places -- 'right under the noses of these people,’ as he put it... ...Cosima put in a few appearances at his bedside, but she was clearly more concerned with overseeing the festival than attending to the needs of her ailing father...” When Liszt died, so passed the last great surviving link to the heady days of the early Romantic Era – those legendary Parisian salons of the 1830s and 1840s at which Liszt, Frederic Chopin (1810 - 1849), Hector Berlioz (1803 - 1869), and Felix Mendelssohn (1809 - 1847) made music together and rubbed elbows with other artistic and literary luminaries of the day, in one of the greatest recorded conflagrations of genius that the world has ever known… PICTURED: A rare cabinet photo showing Liszt lying on his deathbed, which was taken shortly after he passed away.

#opera #classical music #music history #bel canto #composer #classical composer #aria #classical studies #classical composers #classical musician #classical musicans #classical history #Franz Liszt #Liszt #musician #musicians #historian of music #Romantic period #Lisztomania #Liszt fever #Orchestra #Symphonic poems #Faust Symphony #Symphony #Mephisto Waltz #Concerto #Concert #Chamber music #Mazeppa #Sonata

[phantasmagorighoul]

gorillaz fans (particularly those who like murdoc), i have a piece of music history i think you might find interesting! this is according to my director so please don’t tear me apart for inaccuracies

franz liszt was a classical composer from the mid 1800s who was praised as one of the best pianists of the time!! he had a term for his popularity--lisztomania--that was basically like olden-days bieber fever. even beethoven thought he was badass.

however, he grew incredibly sick and almost died (his obituary was published before he was even declared dead). his music after his sickness began to lack form and had odd, uncommon time signatures and featured many tritones, AKA the devil’s interval. it is legend that he had died for a minute or two before he suddenly opened his eyes again much to the surprise of those around him. he then allegedly explained that he had descended to hell and met the devil, and he made a deal with him that he would condemn himself to hell forever once he died for good if he gave the devil his soul in exchange for his life... as well as the talent to help him become the world’s most famous pianist. but that’s just legend.

and at the time, that was exactly what happened, and even though this was at a time where religion was a sore subject if you went against anything the church said, nobody really said anything to him for being a satanist because he was that good.

his first piece after he supposedly sold his soul is titled the “mephisto waltz”--it follows a story about mephistopheles and faust stealing a fiddle at a festival and driving the festivalgoers into a mad waltz. it’s actually a really awesome piece.

so there was this guy who sought to be praised as the best of his time after a supposed deal with the devil who had connections to faust...does it sound familiar at all?

#i probably have a lot of stuff wrong but this is what my director told me :') i just think the connection's really cool! #dude's a real life murdoc #gorillaz #murdoc niccals #ghoulish mumbles #long post #religion // #ask to tag

[wendyalice-archive]

Classicaloid S2 Ep24

Classicaloid is a lot of things, but it knows how to throw all the firecrackers, disco balls, and Jojo references at you in the most satisfying way possible.

Just like S1 Ep 24, it really knew how to end it’s plot in a explosive manner.

Let’s begin.

THE SCOOBY DOO SPLIT OF WHAT EACH PART OF THE GANG IS DOING IS GREAT AND FIGHT ME ABOUT IT.

GUYS LOOK THERE WAS A QUALITY MOZART MOMENT AND IT HAD A NEW SONG AND IT BLEW ME AWAY AND I CAN’T HANDLE

EVERYONE HEARING MOZART’S SONG AND BEING INSPIRED TO JUST BE LIKE “lol Let’s just do Musik cause we can!”

LIKE WHY EVEN TEASE US THAT THEY MAY NEVER BE ABLE TO---OH WHO CARES DVROAK AND SCHUBERT WERE ADORABLE AND FUNNY!!!!!!!

CHOPIN HAS A SHOUJO MOMENT WITH KANAE AND GETS HIS MUSIC BACK, -IS THIS KAGAMI NO ASAOBI WHAT IN THE ASS-

LISZT BEING LISZT.

THEN BACH Y’ALL DID YOU SEE BACH

SWEET MERCIFUL DISCO FEVER BUDDHA

THE IDOL GIRLS IMMEDIATELY SEEING BACH AND JUST GETTING THEIR MUSIK BACK --see kids he was as potent as he was back then, he was the father of 20 babies the absolute madman--

KANAE STILL IN HER OUTFIT, RIDING THE DVORAK TRAIN, AS BEETHOVEN’S STAR PLATINUM STAND AND BACH’S MUSIK 2, ELECTRIC BUGALOO OPEN THE DOOR FOR HER TO COME CRASHING IN TO SAVE HER BROTHER

LISTEN Y’ALL, NOTHING IS AS QUALITY AS CLASSICALOID ABOUT THAT KIND OF NONSENSE OKAY

Also Kanae having to fight herself, like I know that’s waved away as Wagner creating Nega Kanae (we’ll get to that in a minute) but Kanae having to fight the personification of basically how she took care of Wagner, being apart of his life but ultimately not knowing that he didn’t need just a cool big sister who let him do whatever made him happy, but a driving force in his life that would tell him when he’s wrong but remind him that even if he was, it’s okay, because he has people who love him.

Speaking of, Wagner created some punk version of Kanae because she was the only figure in his life who he thought could protect him. Wagner feeling he was botched and therefore unloved and the fact he worked hard to prove he was just as good as the rest of the Classicaloids had everything to do with the fact Wagner felt like he had a disability that was holding him back from possibly being loved LITERALLY FIGHT ME OKAY LIKE I LIKE WAGNER YES HE’S A LITTLE SHIT BUT LISTEN

He is a bad boy but he is a sad boy and while it doesn’t excuse anything he’s done, I’m glad he gets to learn from this and get that sweet unconditional love

LET’S ALSO MENTION KANE GETTING WINGS

LET’S ALSO ALSO MENTION THE FACT THAT KANAE WAS THE BEST

ALSO YO THROW DOWN ON ME THAT WAGNER WANTED TO PROTECT KANAE SO BAD HE FIXED HIS OWN MUSIK TO BE AMAZING AND BEAUTIFUL TO SAVE HIS SISTER F I G H T M E

Backing up a bit, the slap of familial love had me laughing so hard I bust a lung like bruh

Poor Sousuke, when they showed him afterwards I literally said aloud “Oh my god I forgot about Sousuke” I’M SORRY MY TINY BABY

HOPEFULLY THE SHOW IS NICE TO YOU IN THE LAST EPISODE, IT’S APPARENTLY ALL ABOUT HIM

I’M CRYING THIS WAS THE BEST OKAY JUST WATCH ME FIGHT YOU AND CRY BLOODY TEARS INTO YOUR SHIRT.

THANK YOU FOR READING AND I HOPE YOU HAVE A LOVELY DAY :’D

#Classicaloid #this has been a post #I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO EMOTIONAL #OH MY GOD THANK GOD THIS HAPPENED TODAY BECAUSE TODAY HAD SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAPPEN #SO THANK YOU SHOW FOR GIVING ME JOY

[imagine-loki]

Mr. Laufeyson's Ward

TITLE: Mr. Laufeyson’s Ward

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 6 AUTHOR: goddessofmischief ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are living in the late 1800’s and your parents pass away due to a tragic accident. Leaving you an orphan, you are sent to a miserable orphanage. Then, a mysterious and harsh man named Loki visits the orphanage and takes you on as his ward. He brings you to his crumbling mansion in the English countryside, where you face his cruel intentions, and eventually discover that you care for him much more than you’d like to admit. 

RATING: T

NOTES: Hello! Sorry for the slight delay, & I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also, I recently found an illustration that I adore, which seems to perfectly illustrate my story. Just thought I’d share it, hehe.

I woke up early the next morning feeling extraordinarily well in regards to my health. However, I had not gotten much sleep throughout the night. I opened the curtains widely, and the initial hints of the rising sun cascaded into my room - illuminating the space with a rosy pink and orange light.

I chose to wear another mourning frock of mine, one that I hadn’t worn since my parent’s funeral. It was one of the more exquisite dresses that I had brought along with me, as it was beautifully embroidered and adorned with fine lace. I fashioned my hair into a stylish chignon, which always made me appear much older than I actually was.

I headed downstairs at this early hour to walk around the mansion and stretch my legs, as I believed that lying in bed for so many days augmented the stiffness in my bones. I thought I would go downstairs to the kitchen and say good morning to the rest of the servants, and perhaps steal a bite or too of the pastries that Mrs. Cunningham regularly cooked each morning. Although my destination was the downstairs kitchen, I didn’t get far for I uncovered an open door which led to a small, curious room. I assumed that I had never taken notice of it before because Mr. Laufeyson had sealed it off and only intended to use it when he had guests.

My assumptions were fortified when I walked inside and discovered a beautiful piano, and velvet tufted sofas and chairs situated around the lavishly decorated room. Various glasses, either partially filled with liquor or empty, were left there from the night before and had not been cleared from the room just yet. Although I should have left the room at that moment, as I had no right to be in it, I sat down at the piano. My fingers twitched in anticipation as I passed my fingertips noiselessly across the ivory keys. I had played ever since I was a very young girl, and I had been very despondent when I had to leave my beloved childhood piano behind. It had always been a favorite hobby of mine.

But this piano was even more beautiful, and I could feel that it was not regularly used. Placing my left hand into position, I played the first set of notes that began one of my favorite pieces: Chopin’s Nocturne No. 19. I paused to notice how beautifully the notes resonated within the small room. I had ought to close to door to prevent the others from hearing me, but I couldn’t wait any further to begin playing. I closed my eyes as I repeated the initial notes and proceeded with the accompanying notes that followed. I had memorized this entire piece, which had went against my mother’s pleads for me to focus on more upbeat pieces, rather than melancholic melodies such as this one.

I was a bit sluggish, and faltered at times. Yet, I still thought that my performance was satisfactory - especially due to my lack of recent practice. I kept my eyes closed for most of the time, completely lost in the music. I finished the piece smoothly, even though my fingers yearned not to desert the keys.

And as the final note ceased to echo throughout the room, the applause that followed shocked me. I opened my eyes and turned around to find my master, and Mr. Browne, sitting on two chairs located near the entrance to the room. I had not heard them come in. They then gave me a standing ovation. “Bravo!” shouted Mr. Browne. I stood up, flustered by this sudden deliverance of praise. “Thank you. I didn’t know I had an audience.” “You captured our attention as we were returning back from an early walk to the stables.” grinned Mr. Laufeyson, as they both glided closer to me. He looked upon me with astonishment. “What talent you have, Miss Dowling!,” exclaimed Mr. Browne. “I didn’t know your ward was such a piano virtuoso!” He said to my guardian, who seemed to be in quite a trance of curiosity and awe as he didn’t answer Mr. Browne at once. “Neither did I.” admitted Mr. Laufeyson with an amused chuckle. “Do you know any of Beethoven’s works off the top of your little head?” inquired Mr. Browne. “Yes, I do.” I did know a couple, even though I preferred Chopin, Liszt and numerous other composers, to Beethoven. His face lit up immensely. “He is my favorite! You must play for us all later, after dinner!” “It is my master who will decide, for it is not in my liberty to do so.” I glanced towards Mr. Laufeyson, to stress to Mr. Browne that I was still under his authority. “Yes, of course she must.” He assured Mr. Browne. “I will be looking forward to hearing you play again, Miss Dowling.” He said fondly and as he left the room, he began to loudly hum Fur Elise.

I turned to my master, as I anticipated that he would be mad with me. “I know I shouldn’t have gone into the room, but I saw the piano and-” He smiled broadly, and held up his right hand to stop me from talking. “Hush, Victoria. It’s perfectly alright. I’m very pleased to see that you are all better.” “I won’t be disturbing you, or your guests, any longer, and I will return to my room presently. Good day, sir.” I curtsied to take my leave, but he reached out and gently touched my arm to stop me. “What is this nonsense you speak of, Victoria? I would like you to join us, now that your health is restored.” His hand did not leave my arm. “I thank you, sir, but I fear that I am not entirely in good health just yet. I wouldn’t want you, or your guests, to potentially contract my sickness.” Although this was true, I also did not wish to intrude on him and his company so soon. I could tell that my master was trying to find something to say to counteract my supposition, but he simply could not, so I continued. “I will stay away until I receive confirmation from the doctor that my illness is no longer contagious.” “Okay. I will call Dr. Sweeney to check up on you as soon as possible. I no longer want you confined to your room.” We both noticed somebody at the door, and I stepped back from my master. I had not realized the close proximity in which he had drawn himself to me. “There you are, Loki. I was looking for you. Breakfast is about to be served.” Lavinia eyed me closely, and kept her distance as she undoubtedly wanted to avoid the possibility of catching my fever. “Has your health improved then, Miss Dowling?” “Yes, I feel much better. Thank you.” I answered, and then turned to Mr. Laufeyson. “I will wait for the doctor in my room.” He nodded, and before returning to my chamber, I walked to the servant’s area in the basement in hope that somebody would be able to make me a bowl of porridge.

¨¨¨°º0º°¨¨¨

The doctor arrived just before noon, and I admitted both Dr. Sweeney and Mr. Laufeyson, who accompanied him, into my bedchamber. I had been spent my morning sitting at my desk reading Candide, as my guardian had left it behind the previous day. Dr. Sweeney proceeded to check up on me through taking my temperature. “Your temperature is perfectly normal, and I must say that your speedy recovery is quite remarkable.” “I assure you it’s because of how much I rested over the past few days, and because of how closely I was looked after…” I glanced in my master’s direction and he smiled warmly. “Yes, I agree with you, Miss Dowling.” The doctor remarked kindly. “Now, although your illness is gone, and will no longer be contagious to the others, I still don’t want you to go outside just yet. I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill. I want you to wait until next week, just to be sure.” I acknowledged his proposal with a nod, and I was rather content with this for it meant that I could not join Mr. Laufeyson and his company whenever they decided to venture outdoors. I rather felt unwelcome at the prospect of joining them - especially in being in the company of Lavinia, as all I could remember was the way she laughed cruelly at me when Mr. Laufeyson had slapped me… I looked down on my lap upon recalling this painful memory, and how my master had harmed me. “Well, I better be off to my next patient. I will find my way out. I wish you good health, Victoria.” My eyes remained downcast as I thanked him, and Mr. Laufeyson, after expressing his gratitude once again, led the doctor to my door. However, he did not exit himself. “Won’t you join us now, Victoria? Lunch will be served shortly.” He said, upon coming to my side. I had returned to my desk and had picked up Candide once again. After remembering the incident, I could not meet his eyes directly.  “No thank you, sir. I’m not hungry.” “Surely you must be. You are in need of proper nourishment now that you are truly well again.” This was true, for I had lost quite a lot of weight ever since my arrival at Heathcote. But I detested the idea of joining them, for it entailed much more than just eating. I would have to listen & participate in their conversations, and have to pretend to be interested. When I did not answer him, he came closer and asked if I was okay. “I’m fine, Mr. Laufeyson. I just don’t believe that I should join you and your guests at mealtimes.” I remarked straightforwardly. He frowned at my words. “Why not?” I let out a sigh and set down the book. “It’s obvious that Miss Browne and I are not likely to get along, and I do not want to spoil her time here. It would be unfair, and inconsiderate of me, to do so. I think it will be best for me to take my meals alone.” He sullenly regarded what I had spoken for a moment and eventually nodded. “I guess you are right, Victoria. I will not require your presence at meals then, despite how much I want you to join us. However, I hope you may grace us with your company after dinner. Mr. Browne will be very upset if you do not come, and I actually have a surprise to show you.” I wondered what type of surprise he had in store. Yet I did not regard this matter in my answer. “You can assure Mr. Browne that I promise to play later this evening.” “Good.” He smiled with satisfaction. “I will have Mrs. Cunningham send up your lunch then.” “Thank you, sir.” I had turned my attention back to the book, yet I felt him linger behind me for a moment before he opened the door and left.

¨¨¨°º0º°¨¨¨

Mr. Laufeyson stood before us all and he proceeded to pull the purple, silk cover off of the concealed object besides him. I immediately knew what it was. “What exactly is that thing?” asked Lavinia cluelessly. “It’s a stereoscope.” I said with confidence. I had met Mr. Laufeyson and his company in the small parlor room shortly after dinner. I had not yet played the piano for them, as Mr. Laufeyson had insisted on initially showing us his surprise. “Precisely, Victoria. They call it a Sweetheart Stereoscope to be exact, as it allows two people to view the same image at once. I could hardly get my hands on one in London because of how popular they’ve become.” Lavinia immediately stood up and moved towards the table. “Ooh, I want to try!” She cried out, her expression as similar as that of an whiny and eager child. To my incredulity, Mr. Laufeyson stopped her before she sat down in front of the stereoscope. “I was thinking that Victoria shall be the first to try it out with me, given that she has been confined to the environs of her bedchamber for the past couple of days. It would be beneficial for her to take in different views around the world.” “Of course.” Said Lavinia stiffly, with an air that clearly exhibited her irritation over Mr. Laufeyson’s decision. “I’ll play on the piano then, if you don’t mind.” Mr. Laufeyson gestured towards the piano gladly, as he then led me over to the small table that the stereoscope was placed on. Lavinia immediately began to play a Mozart sonata that I faintly recognized, but that I knew was a moderately difficult piece. She had sheet music before her and asked her father to turn the leaves for her. She began at a slow pace, yet was already stumbling with the notes.

Mr. Laufeyson and I took our seats at the table, which had two candlesticks besides the stereoscope to give off an ample amount of light for the device. No words passed between us until after my guardian had situated the first stereograph into the device. I peered into the viewer eagerly and was met with an image of a crowded street, filled with many pedestrians and carriages. “Wow! Just look at all of those people. Which city is this?” I asked, my eyes not leaving the viewer. “New York City.” He happily remarked from the other side of the machine. He gave me a few more moments to observe the stereo, before he lifted it out and replaced it with a new one. This next one was of a channel of water, encompassed by buildings, with an elaborate bridge above it. The stereograph also captured the various gondolas moving along the canal. I recognized it to be Venice, as I had been there before with my parents. I looked away from the viewer, and saw that his attention was still fixated upon the beauty of Venice. “Are you influenced by the stereo-mania craze, sir?” I asked. He peeked out from behind the stereoscope and flashed me a smile.“Yes, I have to admit that I am. I think stereographs are very fascinating. They enable you to view the world, without ever leaving your home. Are you not an admirer of this advancement?” “I certainly am, but I am even more intrigued by the actual process of capturing a photographic image than the different methods of viewing it. I think that the way in which an image is created by the combination of different chemicals, and the exposure to light, is perhaps the most innovative advancement of our age. It allows us to see projections of places, people, and even ourselves, in a whole new way.” I was then drawn back to the mystery of the daguerreotype of myself that he had in his possession, but I instantly rebuffed this thought by asking my guardian for his confirmation. “Wouldn’t you agree, sir?” “Yes, absolutely.” He grinned, before he turned to change the image in the viewer. “You are very bright, Victoria.” He said softly, in the midst of placing a new stereo card into the device. The way in which he spoke seemed as though it was an inward thought that he had not intended to publicly project. I didn’t know how to respond to his compliment, so I looked back into the viewer to observe the new image that he had set before my eyes. It was of a medieval castle nestled just before the grand Pyrenees in France. It reminded me of a stereograph that I used to google over back home. “My parents had a wide selection of stereos at home. I remember one, which was very similar to this one, of a man standing on the majestic Alps. He was so small in comparison to the vastness of the mountains that surrounded him.” I laughed delicately on remembering the joy that that particular stereo had given me. My parent’s large stereo collection had undoubtedly been sold off after they died… He must have noticed that I had drifted into a deep thought, for he waited a moment to respond. “I hope my collection is proving to be as pleasurable as yours.” “It is. Thank you, sir.” I expressed sincerely.

Miss Browne had been having a lot of difficulty throughout the entire time my guardian and I conversed, yet I was still taken aback by what she did next. She stormed off the piano and shoved the sheet music off the stand in frustration. With a groan, she trudged over to Mr. Laufeyson’s side and placed her hand on his arm. “Won’t I get a turn, Loki? I don’t want to play the piano anymore.” she cried. I spoke up before my master had the chance to say anything. “Please sit, Lavinia. I’m feeling a bit dizzy anyway from looking at so many.” I offered her my seat and she took it greedily without thanking me. There was a small bookcase in the room, that I hadn’t taken notice of before, and I headed in that direction in search of a book to pass the time. However, Mr. Browne came near me. “Young lady, I believe you said you would play some Beethoven for us?” I had momentarily forgotten about my promise. I looked towards Mr. Laufeyson to find that he was already watching me. He urged me forward with an encouraging nod, which went unseen by Lavinia as her full attention was on the stereoscope. “Oh, yes.” I said, as I headed towards the piano instead. I picked up the sheet music that Lavinia had thrown off before taking a seat on the bench. I then turned towards Mr. Browne, who had already sat down besides his wife, who looked at me condescendingly. “Any requests, sir?” “Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata?” I grinned, as I had partially expected this. “Of course.”

I did a quick scale to warm up my fingers before beginning. I was fortunate that this piece had always been requested at the parties my parents used to host, which had allowed me to become quite acquainted with it. As I played the piece from memory, it felt exhilarating to feel the weight of the keys when my fingers pressed down upon them, and to hear the notes resonate throughout the candle-lit room. I didn’t take notice of the others in the room, as I was once again fully concentrated on the music. This is why I became startled when midway through the piece Lavinia started yelling at my guardian. I did not falter nor stop, however. “I’ve seen this picture already! Why aren’t you paying attention, Loki?!” She said ferociously. He apologized to her, and swiftly changed the stereo to please her. But when her eyes returned to the viewer, his returned to me. I quickly looked back down at the keys upon meeting his twinkling, attentive eyes.

When I finished the piece, the booming applause of Mr. Browne and my master filled the room. This caused Lavinia to stomp off in rage, with her mother in tow. “Beautifully done, Miss Dowling.” said Mr. Browne, seemingly unaware of his daughter and wife’s brisk removal from the room. I thanked him and looked towards Mr. Laufeyson who had gone to the liquor cart and returned with two drinks for himself and Mr. Browne. “You play wonderfully.” He lifted the chalice to his lips and took a sip as he came to my side. “Now, how about another?” He challenged, as he opened the sheet music that Lavinia had attempted to play before. I resumed my seat. “I must admit that I am not completely familiar with this piece, but I will try my best.” My eyes darted across the notes inscribed on the leaves and I was confident that I would be able to deliver. “Very well. I shall be your page-turner.” He came nearer and the proximity between us was so close that I could smell the poignancy of his drink, as well as his cologne. However, I was not distracted by his nearness and he proved to be an excellent page-turner. He was attentive to every note that I played, for he knew exactly when to turn the page. My master and Mr. Browne continued to insist that I play more songs, which I did not mind due to the lengthy separation that I had from this beloved instrument of mine. I performed the limited amount of sheet music that Mr. Laufeyson owned, and also some more pieces from memory.

It wasn’t until Mr. Browne was well inebriated that my master insisted on retiring for the night. Although Mr. Laufeyson had the same amount of drinks as Mr. Browne, he seemed to hold his liquor quite well. Mr. Browne departed the room after assuring us that he would be able to find his bedchambers on his own and wishing us a good night. My master, however, would not allow me to return to my room on my own. “You must realize, Victoria, that there are no more available candlesticks in the room. I will not have you stumbling around the corridors in the dark.” I was distracted by a rustling sound in the corridor, and I thought it was probably one of the servants. But then I remembered how late it was, and that they were not regularly about at this hour. I turned my attention to my master. “I shall take a lone candle off of one of the sconces then, which will prove to be an adequate provider of light.” I asserted. “And have you burn your delicate fingers with dripping hot wax? No. That will not do, Victoria. Let me walk you to your chamber.” He stressed. I no longer argued with him, as I knew he was right. He guided me out of the room and towards the foyer, as we had to travel across it in order to reach the entrance of the west wing.

I was startled when I saw Lavinia standing in the midst of the large room, holding a candlestick in her hand and looking like an apparition in the same pale pink, silk dress that she had been wearing before. I knew she had been eavesdropping on us, given the sound I had heard in the corridor moments prior, and had found out exactly where we would be heading. “Loki, I need to talk to you. Now.” She said bitterly, animosity still raging inside of her. “I shall talk to you in the morning, Lavinia. It is far too late in the night for me to put up with your bickering.” Mr. Laufeyson urged me forward by placing his hand on my back. He did not want to stop for her. “I will not take no for an answer!” She wailed. I stepped away from Mr. Laufeyson, for I wished to leave so that he could console Lavinia in private. “Sir, please give me your candlestick. I will find my room on my own.” He handed me the candlestick, but ordered me to stay where I was. He then met Lavinia, who was crying, and took her hand in his. “It’s okay, darling. Everything will be alright. Get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.” He then kissed her on the cheek sweetly, and I turned away at once, as I realized that I was infringing on their privacy. She obediently left without another word, and he sauntered back over to me. I handed him the candlestick back to him and we continued onto the west wing without speaking to one another. It wasn’t until we were at my door that he spoke to me again. “I hope you’ve had a pleasant evening, Victoria.” “Yes. Thank you, sir.” “And I also trust that you are no longer refraining from getting a good night’s sleep?” I momentarily could not look into his eyes. I had been restless the night before, as my fears had once again returned. “Yes-s, sir.” I finally said. He must have noticed that I was troubled by his question, for he then took my hand and pressed it gently. “Nothing will harm you at Heathcote, Victoria. You are safe here, I promise you.” “Not even the ghosts?” Although I was quite serious about my question, I asked it in humorous manner to conceal my fears. He chuckled lowly. “Although Heathcote is an old manor, and many souls must have come and gone throughout its history, I can assure you that there are no spirits within these walls.” His words consoled me so much that I smiled, and this expression of relief made him do the same. I bid my master goodnight and entered my room where a warm fire was waiting for me. I could hardly undress myself before I dozed off, exhausted yet utterly tranquil, under the heavy blankets of my bed.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #mr. laufeysons ward #Goddess of Mischief #chapter 6 #1800 #parents #tragic accident #orphan #mysterious #harsh #ward #mansion #countryside #cruel intentions #care

[mastcomm]

Review: Going Beyond Beethoven, by Playing Works in His Shadow

The American Symphony Orchestra’s concert at Carnegie Hall on Friday had two claims on news. The first: a cheeky approach to the Beethoven-theme concerts that almost every ensemble seems to be planning this year to coincide with the 250th anniversary of his birth. (Cheeky, because — spoiler alert — no Beethoven works were on the program, titled “Beyond Beethoven.”) The second: the New York orchestral debut of Lucas Debargue, an exciting young French pianist.

Programming works like Max Reger’s “Variations and Fugue on a Theme of Beethoven” (1915) certainly gave conceptual coherence to the evening. But the Beethoven-indebted works selected were not all of uniform quality. During this piece, and also throughout Louis Spohr’s Symphony No. 6 (known as the “Historical Symphony”), I had the impression that the best way not to play Beethoven would be to plan concerts fully out of his shadow.

The orchestra’s music director, Leon Botstein, gave the game away a bit in his program note: While writing critically about Beethoven anniversary-fever, he also admitted, “We did not want to be left out of the party this year.”

Not everything was a stretch. Liszt’s “Fantasy on Motifs from Beethoven’s Ruins of Athens” sounded, in this performance, strong enough to hear at any time. This was in part thanks to the presence of the night’s other newsmaker, Mr. Debargue, who was raging in one moment, then daringly swinging the next, before turning to a more familiar standard of luxuriant Romantic virtuosity.

The soloist and the orchestra did not always entirely meld. But Mr. Botstein did sterling work in keeping things together, even when Mr. Debargue’s improvisatory shifts in tempo courted chaos. The result was urgent music-making for its own sake, rather than a performance unduly indebted to our baggage regarding another composer.

Even better was Galina Ustvolskaya’s Piano Concerto — a modernist, five-movement work from 1946. What did this have to do with Beethoven’s influence? Not much, other than that Ustvolskaya was also honored recently, for what would have been her 100th birthday in 2019. (In a program note, Mr. Botstein made the case that this excellent but too-often unheard composer might be more deserving of the big round-number celebration — and the exposure — than Beethoven.)

Her concerto requires grimly pounding, one-two punch combinations from the soloist, as well as delicate, legato lamentations. Mr. Debargue excelled in all of these. And during the work’s final turn toward more consonant harmony, the players retained a crucial sense of gravity.

This was all gratifyingly unusual material for a young pianist’s first New York City appearance with an orchestra. Like Mr. Botstein, this pianist relishes upsetting expectations. The recent DVD release of the documentary “Lucas Debargue: To Music,” includes a bonus feature of the pianist playing a 12-minute improvisation on “Caravan,” by Juan Tizol and Duke Ellington.

It’s one of the most interesting recordings Mr. Debargue has made yet — even if this side of his musicianship has yet to be reflected on the Sony discs of his playing. So Mr. Debargue will continue to need adventurous collaborators like the American Symphony Orchestra. If they come back to town together, that would be news, all by itself.

American Symphony Orchestra

Performed Friday at Carnegie Hall, Manhattan.

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[angrycollectordaze-me-blog]

Essay代写：The shelly

下面为大家整理一篇优秀的essay代写范文- The shelly，供大家参考学习，这篇论文讨论了电影《谢利》。影片《谢利》的成功不仅以社会妓女的敏感话题有无真情为其电影的抒情基点，还以印象主义绘画那些美的特质为其依托，将观众的审美视野放在法国浪情的调子上来展示。在光影朦胧、色泽炫目的画面中，人的情志和思想完全被震慑，被征服。该电影属于法国经典的印象派手法，追求形式的美比表现内容显得更为主要。

​Telling the story in the context of painting is one of the most successful elements of the British film Shirley. Stephen frese, the British director, is famous again for his masterful use of language and impressionistic flickering images, following the queen, which he directed. The success of the film "Shirley" not only depends on whether the sensitive topic of social prostitutes has true feelings or not as the basis of its lyrical film, but also relies on the aesthetic characteristics of impressionistic painting to display the audience's aesthetic vision in the tune of French wave. In the hazy, blinding picture of color, people's feelings and thoughts are completely shocked and conquered.

The artistic charm of film art generally follows two principles. First, the story is full of ups and downs, which is very touching. First, the picture is exquisite, wonderful. Following the winning rules of this film, the British films such as Tess, Jane eyre, wuthering heights and Elizabeth all achieved success. In the past art blockbusters in the UK, the two main lines of parallel scenes and plots have never changed, but the film composition is slightly classical and solemn, lacking vivid color blocks and flowing perspective of the picture. Stephen frese's 2009 film "Shirley" breaks away from the long-standing tone, and places the characters and the plot of the story in a kind of staggered color, dim light and shadow, colorful picture and muddy impression, which gives people excellent aesthetic effect. The film vocabulary expressed in the film "Shirley" is romantic and has the aesthetic characteristics of impressionistic art. In this film, beautiful scenes and pictures are elegantly connected with characters. The film's composition was taken to an unprecedented level by the director. Film belongs to the French classic impressionism, the pursuit of beauty in the form is more important than the performance of the content. According to current film critic Louis janetti, "formalist films are basically the works of directors, and the personal marks of the author are usually very obvious.

Film of French impressionism in the explorer is not only Stephen Fraser, one person at home, French director gonzalo, wheels, DiLvKe "fever" drucker's "Spanish festival" and so on, are all in the name of impressionism, and at that time, the French original film classic beauty system by unprecedented challenges, in a dizzy chaotic light for its development under the new camp sadly arisen.

To understand the picture language of director Stephen frese, we need to apply light ink to the principles of French impressionist painting. Impressionism is a kind of international art language, which creates a little-known painting vocabulary on the basis of pursuing "outdoor sketching" and opposing the inherent color in the painting circle. Rally in under the flag of impressionist art not only has a beginning, manet, monet, van gogh, gauguin and others, and music of Debussy, ravel, photography in the "soft tone photography technique, Paul Paul verlaine hazy literature in literature context, Japan's" art of float world draw ", etc., they are both controlled by the impressionism of aesthetic theory. The rise of impressionism in the movie in the 1920 s, the French film and stronger momentum and German film American film, exhaustion, to Abraham, okada, zhe min, drucker, and a new generation of its representative of innovation sent, trying not to beat, set foot on the French impressionist painting in rotating between light and shadow, looking for a new film language. Thus, monet et al. 's efforts to capture the vague and fleeting artistic feeling in painting became a new breakthrough in the French film industry. At the same time, Debussy on the music in the harmonic vocabulary he created, that kind of sway sway feeling also came into being. Impressionist aesthetic standards is not clear at first, the depressed block against Louis xvi of France since the official group of painting style, began in 1874, recognized monet exhibition "impression, sunrise", some strange strange light, colour and lustre turbidity paintings are the Louvre kicked off the door, the young people unwilling fall after they work in the Paris avenue to say, passers-by, to set more and more public security police finally use hoses to disperse the crowd. In any case, at the beginning of impressionism, there was little deviation from the inherent French painting style, and the enterprising spirit of breaking away from it brought these French young people to a new height, a beauty that had not been achieved before. Film "xie li" what aim at, it is impressionism such aesthetic line. Film after Lea to visit her former prostitute industry competition, the old rival Charlotte, sat a British car, through the ancient country road, fast car with fields and crops vegetation formation are dim shadow on the road, look look, a color flashing - golden, green, dark purple, light pink colour superimposed together, such as bouncing color, formed under the sun under the irradiation of light, people will see eye to set up their own colour into the audience. The director Stephen frese is familiar with the theoretical principle of impressionistic painting. He places the perspective of the audience in the nature, thus producing a shot similar to the aesthetic feeling of impressionistic painting.

Based on a novel by French writer Colette, the film "Shirley" is a simple story about a young rich man who falls in love with his mother's friend, a prostitute in her late twenties in Paris. Shelley's mother forced her son to give up the six-year relationship. After marrying another woman, shelly still couldn't forget the man who taught her how to "love", and finally chose to flee to a fantasy world and end her young life with a gun. Movie opening are arranged in the back garden of the family reunion Xie Ligu, characters completely wrapped by lush vegetation, there are French phoenix tree, the aloe, Japan cloves, asparagus, China director of trying to build a kind of tonal symphony, like manet was that colour "grass" riches and honour, blackish green, deep green, and flowers white color contrast with people, let the viewer in shadow when people talk about those boring homely, visual won't feel tired. Paying attention to visual aesthetic experience is one of the most prominent features of contemporary European films. For example, becoming Jane Austen, beautiful angel, road to the red world and brokeback mountain are all pleasing to people with their images, which is also one of the key points for many Oscar winners. Mark rothko, an American art philosopher, said in an exploration of art beauty, "the decorative nature of art is spiritual and philosophical, and it insists on and displays its basic principles. We want a happy signpost, not an ugly presence. However, at present, many directors do not care about the feelings of the audience, they put the dialogue of the characters casually in a simple place, the aesthetic pleasure of the picture of the thoughts in the film often gives way to the tedious word games, the audience does not buy it, failure is inevitable. Shelley, the hero in the movie, is a rare handsome man with deep-set eyes, dark eyebrows and a high nose. His whole face looks like the sculpture beauty of an ancient Greek god. In addition, his clothes also is to have cultured, maroon suit foil by white underwear, slender figure and then put on a black trousers, a hand holding a cup of red wine, talking to lean body, the eyes contain deep lasting appeal when watching leia, wan ku is a woman will be his deputy and charmed by a little provocative look. From the character selection of the leading actor to the clothing selection, all show the film director's superb aesthetic perception and interest, which is combined with the director Stephen frese to express the impressionist painter's aesthetic thinking of one standard. Beauty, as the main narrative of the film "Shirley", has a collision with the aesthetic appreciation of the audience. Along the film refers to the art road signs, we came to the birth of impressionism in the French high society, feeling the extraordinary years of rouge powder. Since the fall of German thought, Paris has been a rallying point for the world's cultural heavyweights. In the mid-19th century, Chopin of Poland came to France by boat from the nieper river to join liszt of Hungary. He met Hugo and George sang in the French salon. Chopin is music on the talent, has been regarded as the apple of the eye of the French high society of female celebrities. His association with George sang, who was six years his senior, was bound to raise eyebrows. Forced by embarrassment, two people avoid the vision of the Paris media, fled to the outskirts of a called mallorca island to survive in the wild, the wave of this kind of love has been France's upper class hot speculation. Critics have suggested that the aunt and nephew's romance in "Shirley" was also learned from Joe and shaw. Paris is not only a place of emotional vortex, but also a cradle of world-class artistic talent. Hugo, merimee, Balzac, dumas, dumas, delacroix, van gogh, gauguin, Sartre, maupassant, voltaire, Berlioz, Debussy these art and ideological heavyweights are from Paris. Many viewers will ask, why does this land have so many music masters, painting leaders, giants of thought, literary giants? It's all about love and romance in Paris, about the fact that this land can produce artistic genius and also allow dirt. "Xie li" is also a shot to the society's most dirty abortion prostitutes, let her moral collapse and his poor generation boy xie li mix, after a period of passion, the human nature of the conscience was awakened, resolutely and resolutely break up with him, just cause xie li shot suicide human tragedy. Impressionism was born out of the vast and misty dust. How can it stop in today's complicated and mixed society?

Film is the language of vision. Only when the eyes are stretched can we better express the meaning of film. Therefore, the design of characters and scenes in the film is crucial. "The visual emphasis on the scene is an important reflection of the director's style." The aesthetic feeling shown by "Shirley" starts from the beautiful picture, and then shapes the beautiful figure of the characters and gradually enters the story itself. Without the ingenious arrangement of director Stephen frese and his tacit cooperation with the photographer, this much-mashed literary script would have caused the world to scoff at the fact that "Shelley" once again tackles such sensitive social issues as prostitution. In the movie, shelly is leia temptation to go to bed, the camera turned to him and the practice that a boxer, leia standing on the bridge use wreath range, looked at her lover with boxer standoff, lens using overlooking the Angle shot up, flowers of Bridges, water flowers, CARDS and colonnades, with flower, beautiful leia all the sight of the audience. Especially in the sun shining glow, the lens produced shadow, the water appeared golden cross wave light, an impressionist visual aesthetic picture arises spontaneously. Impressionism is known in France as the "moment of emotional expression", the capture of fleeting impressions. Truth, as long as a little knowledge of painting appreciation all know, manet, monet, van gogh how to create a beautiful painting, in the path of beauty, the artists climbed the highest mountain art, see the most beautiful scenery. Zheng feng, a contemporary romance novelist, wrote in the book "angels love Paris" that "genius is accomplished at one stroke, striking the world with one action, and brilliant, just like van gogh and Chopin. Stephen Frears rose to the top of British cinema in the 1980s with his keen visual awareness and engaging storytelling. Ignoring the criticism of the current public opinion, the director directly aims his film lens at the prostitute, who is not clean. With the beauty of the beautiful picture and the profound philosophy that is worth thinking, the original sincerity and kindness of human nature are opened. When Shelley was arranged by her mother to marry young Edmee, leia finally realized that the time had come to break up with Shelley. After she gets married and starts a new life with Shelley, she deliberately gives him the cold shoulder and even flees to the seaside alone. The director intentionally arranges for her to have a brief encounter with the muscular and androgen equally developed private boxer, and then goes to bed, gets together with him and makes no sense. However, when leia finally realized that she could not live without shelly, she immediately returned to her hometown and met shelly. However, she looks different with shelly again feeling as before, her body hidden love of a mother's love look noble virtue, said her repressed inner true feelings: "forgive me, I will love you until I die, you are in my heart has been to for a long time, I forgot you still have to shoulder the task of the their own home, the young wife, there may be a child. So, you're going to suffer, you're going to think of me, and use reason and tolerance, and try not to hurt other people... "A touching words has let the audience bring tears, this period of sincere, to the heart of words, will soon be remembered, that forget her in his garden for massage therapist said:" it's strange that I couldn't describe the feeling, just like with African and Chinese people to go to bed, not to say that I have that experience." To win the understanding of African and Asian cultures, American and British directors often add some dialogue without answering questions in their films, which results in cozying up to harm. Perhaps I'm not quite sure why director Stephen frese included this line here. The film "" shelly" "is moving at the end. Shelly left after hearing lya's final farewell, a walk that never returned to lya, nor did he return to this planet. The news of Shelley's suicide was told by the film's narration to the audience. In a sad and beautiful music, the film saw the figure of Shelley disappearing gradually, leaving the world with space for reverie and thinking.

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