A spark is fulfilled
By its momentary flight:
To soar and then die
Is its whole delight.
- Tagore, Jottings: no. 7
This short piece, for flute and piano, contains many sparks that ignite; some fall, some soar but not in an obvious way, there’s no word painting here. It’s almost a collection of fragments or tiny “moments musicaux” but they all were assembled from the same source material which, hopefully, creates a unified whole. The slow pulse stops only for a moment although, when listening, one should be unaware of measured time, I hope.