The world on your shoulders?
Yes, so to speak. The world, or what’s left of it.
I hadn’t realised it was as bad as that.
It’s that bad. Maybe even worse.
You see, the world is in fragments, sir. And it’s my job to put it back together again.
You’ve taken on quite a bit.
I realise that. But I’m merely looking for the principle. That’s well within the scope of one man. If I can lay the foundation, other hands can do the work of restoration itself. The important thing is the premise, the theoretical first step.
You see I’ve understood the need to limit myself. To work within a terrain small enough to make all results conclusive.
The premise of the premise, so to speak.
That’s it exactly. The principle of the principle, the method of operation.
He played jauntily and with flair, crisp and looping figures in the minor mode, as if glad to be there with his mechanical friends, enclosed in the universe he had created, never once looking up. It went on and on, always finally the same and yet the longer I listened the harder I found it to leave.
To be inside that music, to be drawn into the circle of its repetitions: perhaps that is a place where one could finally disappear.