REED . . . that little slice of life, that proportioned piece of
cane, a variable nightmare! Ever changing and dissolving, aging. The Controller,
l the controlled.
How I wish just once!. . just once! I could control you
. . . Reed!
The very heart of you is enough to upset the whole of my tone.
Your grain can reduce my Bassoon to a sniveling bundle of sticks!
Too
Hard, Too Soft!
How Cruel you can be!
A Bassoonist's dream, that"ONE
REED", that non-descript entity which constitutes a reed with life, zeal, a
resilience present only in a rubber band, life as long as an elephant.
A
Reed that will NOT change with the very slightest temperature fluctuations.
The very act of playing you, Reed, is Destructive.
"But, WHAT CAN I
SAY?"