She stands still.My hand is still on her hip. I sense that she starts to relax.I never intended to stop focusing on the play but I start now to discer... her silhouette, to smell her hair, to guess how she is dressed, or to watch the allure of her back. She has now most probably guessed that I don’t have anything special in mind.The sound of the cannon signals that Angelotti’s escape has been discovered. The stage prepares for the finale of the first act and the Te Deum, while the tyran Scarpia. In a quivering and frightened voice she asked me, "Sir, does this mean you are going to punish me?" There was more than a little hint of a sob in her voice as well.This did not feel right to me. This was not how we were. Yet, there was something going on. The air was thick with it. A storm of change was crashing against us and what we had been, relentlessly ripping at it, breaking it, forever twisting it into something new and unknown.I was at war with myself and the implications of these. More

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