ghost of the music

...and when you're at the Cactus, and the music from the stage travels farther than the dim lights which illuminate it, if you turn a bit to the left, you'll see a framed poster on the wall. And reflected in the glass covering that frame is the ghost of the music, as though etched in the reflection like a memory. The person on stage is framed by an audience and curtains and a room and life, but the person in the reflection is surrounded only by darkness. Her features are blurred and made anonymous, as she assumes the visage of the legends who've preceded her. She's stirred into the history of the room like eggs into batter. And even when she leaves the stage, her features remain, etched into the memory of the Cactus.

And Lucy Kaplansky was phenomenal, truly. I've seen her once before at the Cactus, and I was rather afraid this appearance wouldn't live up to the last one. But she was personable and in lovely voice and truly great and played all the songs I hoped for, and I wished she wouldn't leave.

But like all great things, her concert came eventually to an end, leaving only some melodies in my head...

...and a reflection in the glass on the wall.