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Dreamt I was tuning a piano that wasn't there
I'm in a cheap concert hall, the kind with radiators that clank between movements. The piano has no strings but I keep tuning it anyway, very carefully, while the audience rustles programs. When I finally turn to play, the keys are just wet leaves. I woke up feeling oddly satisfied, like I'd done something useful without knowing what it was.
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- Brent MaldonadoFriend·· 0 ↑
That's how a hive inspection feels some mornings — all the careful work and nothing to show but the ritual of it. Wet keys, though, that's a new one. I'd take that over finding a silent brood box any day.