When I arrived in Gent two-and-a-half years ago, a word entered my mind and wouldn’t leave: cello.  I’d played as a teenager but not since.

For the last two years I’ve been a cello student at the Poel music school.  Now we’re on a two-month summer break.  I haven’t picked up the instrument for weeks.  This morning, the word again: cello, accompanied by another one: sing.

The vision of my musical future returns.

Far beyond the ego flaring of “I’ll be the only one singing and playing cello” is the truth … I want to do this.

The future is pulling me, in many respects.  “C’mon, Bruce.  Let’s go!  We’ll do this and this and this.”

I look at the photo and see an immense this.  The vision is clear – just replace the young woman with an old man.  (Okay, how about a seasoned man?)

There’s a way to turn the commitment into a performance.  The MuseScore app will help me find a cello harmony that blends with a singing melody.  But that’s not something for July.

What’s here and now is a tiny white candle burning bright, casting its glow to the far corners of the room.

Me

Sitting on the bench in the tiny park just off the Oudburg

With my cello

With my voice