Thomas Ades Violin Concerto Op. 24
What, exactly, does time circle?
Scale after shimmering scale, the music a snake, feeding on itself.
The coin spinning to rest on the table has its own symmetry, its own precision.
An agitation building to silence.
The slower hand of the sunlight, the faster hand of the storm.
If the machine has a soul it must be broken.
The bow runs across the strings like a knife across a thumbprint.