Observed but not comprehended.

Canal Music

Or

Silent Notes.

I recently came across a paper copy of an Email I sent whilst working at Leicester College back in 2003. It recorded a curious incident I had seen from my office window, I had described and then sent to two colleagues for their interpretation and amusement. I kept a paper copy because I didn’t want the moment to be forgotten, at least not to me.

Here’s what I wrote,

“On the opposite side of the canal is moored a scruffy old canal boat. It has been there for several days, but for the first time today I saw its occupant. He emerged from the little boat carrying a large black something that turned out to be an electric organ. Once he has set it up he commenced to play, and from his expression I could see he clearly enjoyed the creations of his fingers – but no sound could be heard. I listened carefully, then opened the window, there was no sound other than that of passing daily life. The wind blew the music off its stand, and he looked disgruntled and put it back, and recommenced playing, but still no sound could be heard.

What do you make of that?”

Opinions varied amongst my colleagues...

Did he just hear the music in his head?

Was he eccentric?

Is it inexplicable?

Why did he play silently in public?

I think I recorded this incident because I enjoy the unaccountable, I find a puzzle can be more enjoyable then a solution. I also find the ephemera of life, that so often passes unnoticed, carries with it meanings that echo deep and long. To what extent are we all playing a tune that no one hears? Observed but not comprehended.