TWO WORLDS The tap was dripping into a bowl half filled of water. The drops were quick and precise and of equal speed, but their pitch varied between an interval of a fourth or even a fifth, with an infinitude of subtle tones in between. My dislike of most Western music is of its obsession with sin and false optimism, both evident in its predilection for over-wide intervals and heavy harmonies. The subtleties of half- quarter- and eighth-tones heard in melodic sequence appeal to me greatly and seem to pierce to the very centre of existence. Fascinated, I stood listening to the clean, sharp resonance of these waterdrops when an angry femail voice from behind me cried, ‘Oh, turn that thap off! That constant dripping will drive me mad!’ I obeyed, but still I stood there, thinking. Later the voice came again. ‘What are you doing? Why do you stand so still? Answer me! Are you crazy? Perhaps I looked up rather too slowly, unwilling to snap the thread of my meditation. ‘Don’t do it!’ screamed the voice again. ‘Just don’t do it!’
(1968)