In which we anticipate more parties, and the proper preparations must be made.

In which a drunken Raoul sees a vision of his heart's desire in the night.

In the shadows of the opera, an astrakhan cap. A fluttering cape. The shiver of the shoulders as a cold porcelain mask touches cheek and nose and forehead. Dark eyes, full of sorrow, gaze deep into a mirror. Then music starts to play, perhaps from nowhere: a single piano key is pressed repeatedly, the note... Continue Reading →