…for brass choir.
Loss is experienced in many forms. Occasionally we make mistakes that we must reconcile, and in sparing moments in life, these tragedies meet. The opening breaths sit fragile under a high brass flat line as conversation begins in the ensemble. This piece sits on the precipice of self-perpetuated loss—in the first moments of clarity and realization, “this may be it,” captured by a french horn solo and a sudden wave of dark understanding. The pain twists and grows into the ever present flat line, echoing into a hollow, reverent reconciliation of the moments that brought us here. As the other person turns away, it is the last futile effort of begging them, “just stay here…”
Dedicated to my mother, Natalia C. Dinsmoor
[Perusal Score] | [Available for Purchase Soon]
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