monochromatic - August 2009
she stands at the front of the room, conspicuous by
the fact that she's alone. she's happy there,
reading her notes, preparing for what she's about to
do, while the rest of the rooms' occupants are
still barely aware she is there. all in black,
the only flash of colour is the red of her
glasses, perched in her hair, which has the barest
hint of blue when the light catches what is
otherwise jet black. those who've seen her
wardrobe know that summer - while muted - has
colour, blues and purples, but winter is all
black, and today is a very cold day. her
appearance is almost severe, widows peak prominent
with hair pulled back into a long, straight, tail,
black top and long skirt revealing nothing but at
the same time hinting at an entirely lovely and
feminine figure, glasses now on her nose
completing the look that says i am mature and
respectable. she is the youngest in the room, but
so many will never be aware of this fact. with a
determined breath she turns to face the room. a
hundred voices fade to silence and two hundred
eyes watch as she raises her hands. by this simple
gesture she has complete control of the room,
everyone instantly aware of her sense of self, her
tone of command, though she need not say a word to
make her presence known and felt. with her hands
she has commanded armies, made love swell and
grow, expressed hate and brought tears to her
audience. she can draw from her students emotions
they didn't know they possessed and feelings that
have lain dormant for years. she is a student
herself but also a master in so many ways.
she is the conductor, of choir and orchestra,
controlling a world of music with every minute
gesture, pulling and pushing sound, making her
audience think and feel by the control she has of
the musicians in front of her. and all of this
achieved in monochromatic silence.
