Like Camelot, only different

OK, I couldn't resist. I am in the middle of this paper on George Crumb's Ancient Voices of Children (1970)– give me strength, Lord– and I have no business posting an entry, but the Universe demanded it.

I'm clearing a space in my "office" so that I can organize my notes (OK, so I'm not actually in the middle of the paper, more like the razor's edge of the beginning). While moving a pile of– actually, not quite sure what's in that pile, but it's made of paper– I found one of the many dust/lint life-forms that share my living space with me.

But this is Divaland, and everything is musical. Even the dirt. This particular particulate matter was shaped in the form of the most lovely calligraphic eighth note– perfect for some illuminated score. I'd take a picture, but like I said, I'm quite busy at present. You'll just have to trust me. Or come over some time. It's not in any danger of being re/moved any time soon...

Kai-o-ka-kai-o to you all....