Voices of Angels

I walk at lunch. I have for over a year.

I eat at my desk and then take my lunch hour to put on my iPod and go. I don’t break any land speed records in the process, but it gets me off my duff. I have a desk job you know, so my duff is sizable-though on the down hill slide I'm happy to report. Thanks to the retail gig.

But since it's the first of the year, Brighton has decided to walk with me. Her resolution to be thinner and all.

Dang.

I mean, I love her more than my luggage and while walking, we make summer plans, laugh, and gossip. But lunch is my time. The hour a day I give me and me alone.

Of course it would be the heighth of poor manners to walk with her and listen to my iPod. So I have done without. My podcasts have gone begging. I have no idea what is happening at Lake Woebegone. I have the last series of Ricky Gervais collecting dust and my new music is now in the top ten.

But today, Brighton took the day off. (Literally. She felt puny today and called in sick.)

Yay!

The music of choice, is choral.

Now don’t run off!

I’m not musical. By that I mean I don’t read music. I can carry a damn fine tune if I do say so myself and I understand what I’m listening to, I just can’t articulate what I’m hearing into musical terminology.

But this music, how do I say it?

It moves me.

I love how some pieces grow. How by the time you’ve gotten to the end of a piece it has snatched you up and shaken you around like a rag doll. Leaving nothing but those majestic voices echoing in your ear.

Can you really hear the human voice in this form and not believe in God?

...just a little?