The true scene I (second, after the prologue) is finished. Conflict and context have been outlined. One monologue, one duet and two choruses; I’m in the twenty-first minute. As always so far in such forms, I’m starting to get a more and more full sense of the entire piece. It’s just that I can’t look at it too intensely, otherwise it disappears. I have to pretend that I’m not looking and remember as much as I can from those stealthy glances. Or perhaps I don’t need to remember at all, because the continuation unfailingly reveals itself, in due time. For example, right up until yesterday – because that is what I had originally planned – I was sure that after Şeküre’s conversation with Enişte, the first of the admirers, the illustrators, would appear on stage. Meanwhile, yesterday, after the closing the dialogue and the chorus that adorned it, I saw Meddah returning to the stage. Playing a different character this time. 

By the way, I’m reluctant to share my idea in full. In opera, spoilers work differently than in other dramatic forms. In fact, perhaps the opposite of anywhere else, spoilers are rather allies, not the enemies. The power of opera lies not in the suspense, but in the properly supplying a familiar structure with blood. But yet something prohibits me from speaking directly about, for example, which character Meddah will now play. I will only say that the second incarnation is not unrelated to the first, comprising a highly controversial theme, and Meddah will comment on it himself soon. 

One more thought: it can sometimes be difficult not to identify the statements of the characters with the views of the author. From my (growing) experience in working with authors, this assumption is completely wrong; that authors are looking at their characters, listening to them speak, and following their lives and actions with curiosity, sometimes with surprise, and sometimes embarrassment no less than the consumers of their art forms. So I, being the author here only very indirectly but nevertheless a little, am watching the characters and listening to them not without amazement. Sometimes I’d like them to say something else, but they are saying what they are saying; I’m not the one who can dictate them what they are to say. I’m becoming more and more attached to them.

Meanwhile, the flute concerto is on minute six; I have six or so links closed (some can be seen/heard as variants of others, so maybe a few less). In the next link, I will turn to a small melodic motif that came to me on the evening of 23 February of this year, as I was on the fourth floor of a small hotel in a small town in Lower Silesia. I couldn’t get rid of that earworm motif for several hours. And now I remembered it again.

(trans. Magdalena Małek-Andrzejowska)