Winter morning

The first soft chords of Pärt's fourth symphony are wafting from my computer's loudspeakers. I turn around and see high rise apartment buildings framed in the window. A flock of pigeons goes back and forth from left to right and right to left,as if contained in invisible walls extending from the window frame, unable to escape. A scene of grey buildings and a wintry grey sky enlivened only by these desperate swirling birds is the ideal stage for Arvo Pärt's music. The swirling pattern of the flock is abruptly perturbed by a change of direction and it appears that the birds have found a way out of the glass-walled prison framed in my window. The birds are gone and I am left only with Pärt's music, a brooding meditation on a wintry day.