Heard In The Opera House
Following on from yesterday’s story of ill-fated love,
I am put in mind of a visit to the opera.
The production was staged in The London Coliseum:
A performance of Bizet’s Carmen.
The lights dimmed,
As the plaintive chords of the prelude resonated throughout the opera house.
Then, over the sound of her rustling sweet wrappers, the voice of the woman sitting behind me could clearly be heard.
“Eh” she announced, in a strong rural accent.
“Listen to that music.”
“You can tell it’ll end in tears.”