In the stillness of every wintry night, I sing most of the times to an audience of one.
my little wonders a sudden unsettling thunder, uncontrolled sobs, suppressed moans, angste that visit unsolicited, inconsequential happiness, all, become my songs.
A solo performer never looks for applause, or disheartened by disappointed looks, and when the curtain finally falls in silence, and the actor goes back on wheels, there won't be any encore, *it's a solitary road, even if you aren't really aware.