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π—¦π—²π—½π˜π—²π—Ίπ—―π—²π—Ώ 𝟭𝟭 In Christopher Theofanidis' opera, 'Heart of a Soldier,' Scene One, Act One opens with a woman walking across the proscenium, in front of the curtain. We read in the libretto that she is in a park in New Jersey, across the Hudson River from NYC. Gently drifting from above, lit by the Ghost Light, a burnt piece of paper floats down. A simple piece of paper β€” copy paper, office paper β€” singed around the edges. She captures it and looks at it, puzzled. She is puzzled because she does not know. She does not yet know what has happened. She does not yet know that the sound of a body hitting concrete after falling 100 floors makes a bang like a dumpster being dropped, or like a timpani drum with a cymbal crash. She does not yet know. I remember not knowing.

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