The noise

A concert in an atrium on Broadway. The air-conditioning is very good, it's the first time I've felt cold enough in weeks.

A lovely intimate concert, a violinist we softly know, and a cellist. They are going to play Tessellatum by Donnacha Dennehy, accompanied by an animation by Steven Mertens. A living composer – in fact, the violinist commissioned this piece in the first place.

But first they will play a series of works going back four hundred years, to set the scene for this new living work.

We're sitting right up front near the stage. The violinist tells us about the first piece. The title and the composer's name flash up on the screen behind her.

A few chairs over, a man clicks his pen and proceeds to write the title and the composer's name on a paper bag that once held a croissant. The paper crinkles.

Never mind that this man has a supercomputer in his possession. A modern phone that he is already using to take photo and video, and which he could also use to silently write down the title and composer's name.

With each subsequent piece of music, we hear the click of his pen. On. Crinkle crinkle click.

Later, in the section to our left, a cell phone goes off. A woman begins to rummage in the bag at her feet. The ringing gets louder.

An usher comes and forcibly takes the woman's bag and motions silently but insistently for her to follow him.

The usher is a volunteer, he is very enthusiastic.

As the usher and the bag move off and away, the ringing is still getting louder. The phone is inside the woman's other bag, which is still on her person. She shuffles off in the wake of the usher.

Later, she returns with both bags, as if nothing.

NEWSY STUFF

I signed up to read at the Remembering 9/11 gathering at Stuyvesant High School on September 9th. The first invitation, some weeks ago, offered the option of "maybe," in addition to "yes" and "no," and I said "maybe," then, upgraded myself to a "yes," and now I am having doubts again.

My primary care doctor is a Stuy alum, and she has noted at the top of my file, "9/11 survivor," which she is, too. She said she wasn't going to the event, and I wanted to ask her why, I wanted to hear her thought process in case there was something I had not considered, but I hesitated, and then the moment passed, then we were on to the fact that I am 41 now, and all that entails.

So, now I don't know. I did write a rough take in which I found the through line between several things I've written in the past (about all that).

If you've read "Junco and Wolf" in issue No. 33 of A Public Space magazine, I would love to know what you thought of the story! Just hit reply to this email or email kasia.nikhamina (at) gmail (dot) com

Divinity School • a letter every Sunday at sunset • if you’re always looking, after some time you’ll have seen