The Hidden Roads: A Memoir of Childhood

urn:iso:std:iso:639:ed-3:eng

11

text excerpt

While I lay between waking and sleeping, my father sometimes sat down at his piano.  I used to think the wide, strong, rising chords he began with (as a way of flexing his fingers and as an alternative to scales, maybe) were like stanchions or the feet of a great bridge straddling dangerous, dark water: 

at nights I heard
you play – while you charmed babeldom I slept*

*Kevin Crossley-Holland, Selected Poems: from ‘Sounds’.

excerpt from 'The Hidden Roads: A Memoir of Childhood' pp. 11 (73 words)

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1546622457211