Hur låter en evighet? Något sådant här kanske:
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Jag har varit på konsert med ett rum. Ni tror att jag vill säga i ett rum, men jag menar inte i ett rum för jag har varit på konsert med ett rum där allting som finns i ett rum sjunger. Det handlar inte om spirits. Jag tror inte på spirits. När jag kommer in i ett rum jag vet är hemsökt så ser jag fortfarande bara möbler och prylar. Men en orgel får allting att sjunga och det handlar inte spirits utan om naturlagar.
Det är vad Kali Malone och Stephen O’Malley gör i en timme, förlåt en evighet såklart, och Stephen O’Malley gömmer sig hela denna evighet. Mannen (eller vampyren – det vore inte heller en helt osannolik tanke) syns alltså inte alls under hela spelningen. Det går inte att veta vad han gör. Inte riktigt. Man kan gissa – får rummet att sjunga, men vad vet jag?
Evigheten, den enda timme av evighet vi får, spelas på orgel och ett helt rum med allting i; fönster, kläder, hårstrån, tänder, stolar, väggar, puts, tavlor – allting sjunger med. (Rättelse: allting sjunger, små egna variationer, och det är ju det som är så fantastiskt, att det faktiskt låter som att det växer fram nya små stämmor i det stora orgelarrangemanget, att bara ett par små toner börjar fyllas på, alltså: allting sjunger):
En evighet låter kanske som en fluga som flyger motströms mot en fläkt i ett tomt rum:
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Det är väl en konsert I guess, i den mån en konsert måste följa naturlagarna, eller snarare naturlagen: en orgel får allting att sjunga och en konsert är att fylla ett rum med musik inifrån och ut. Så låter kanske evigheten, som att fylla en människa med musik inifrån och ut.
Vi måste göra det här igen snart. En evighetslång timme var alldeles för kort. Det känns redan tomt.
