We went to the Wiltonian Music Hall in Spitalfields to see Fretwork tonight. It was a "fine" concert, not excellent - with the exception of Tan Dun's "A Sinking Love," which was excellently sung by CLare Wilkinson. She really captured the feel of spoken Chinese in a way I find hard to explain, though what I said to her was that listening to her sing this song was like watching a movie. (And what is it with Renaissance/Baroque singers doing really modern stuff? It worked, of course, but it seems so odd ...)
Afterwards we came home, ate some pizza from Mascalzone (not Hot Mamas but who is), then dinked with the computer and made plans. Me, I made some plans for my birthday, and wished bathtubgin happy birthday. And now, if we can find it, we're going to play Boggle.
A quick poem (from the concert), by Li Po, "In the Quiet Night."
So bright a gleam on the foot of my bed, Could there have been a frost already? Lifting myself to look, I found that it was moonlght. Sinking back again, I thought suddenly of home.