Un toque de Neal
No quiero perder este texto por ahí, así que voy a dedicarle una entrada. Esto es un fragmento de una de las cartas que Neal le escribe a Kate desde la cárcel. En la serie se ve un plano de la carta mientras Keller la examina y un alma generosa se dedicó a transcribirla para que todos pudiéramos regalarnos con las palabras de Neal.
Hey Kate,
My Erik Satie cassette tape snapped yesterday. It got torn across your favorite part in Gymnopédie No. 1, right when the second cord slowly ascends in to the tonic heavy G. Luckily, I was able to repair it before sundown. I kept playing it over and over until I fell asleep and the music gently melted in to a vivid dream…
Distant piano notes sweeten the air as the boat gently drifts. You sit looking away towards the ocean, then you turn and your eyes shimmer in unison to the sea. I tuck your hair behind your ear and you whisper, “atomes d'ambre au feu se miroitant,” and I follow your eyes towards the cabin, the faint music now crystal clear, and I see him. His hands, his beautiful little hands, playing the piano perfectly, each note carrying innocence, purity that only a child can play. “He's just like you,” you whisper. I look at his eyes and recognize the unwavering determination, a deep concentration to get things right. Then, his finger slips, right when the second cord slowly ascends in to the tonic heavy G. He looks up, greatly disappointed, but he smiles and keeps playing.
Yo esperaría cuatro años y más por un hombre que me escribir estas cartas, no es por nada. Y esta es la pieza a la que hacen referencia; en realidad es bastante conocida:
Hey Kate,
My Erik Satie cassette tape snapped yesterday. It got torn across your favorite part in Gymnopédie No. 1, right when the second cord slowly ascends in to the tonic heavy G. Luckily, I was able to repair it before sundown. I kept playing it over and over until I fell asleep and the music gently melted in to a vivid dream…
Distant piano notes sweeten the air as the boat gently drifts. You sit looking away towards the ocean, then you turn and your eyes shimmer in unison to the sea. I tuck your hair behind your ear and you whisper, “atomes d'ambre au feu se miroitant,” and I follow your eyes towards the cabin, the faint music now crystal clear, and I see him. His hands, his beautiful little hands, playing the piano perfectly, each note carrying innocence, purity that only a child can play. “He's just like you,” you whisper. I look at his eyes and recognize the unwavering determination, a deep concentration to get things right. Then, his finger slips, right when the second cord slowly ascends in to the tonic heavy G. He looks up, greatly disappointed, but he smiles and keeps playing.
Yo esperaría cuatro años y más por un hombre que me escribir estas cartas, no es por nada. Y esta es la pieza a la que hacen referencia; en realidad es bastante conocida:
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