top of page
  • Writer's pictureRosalind Ridout


You, the ball

The rich harmonies carry us through a phrase. And another.

Its intensity is found in you, little ball, fitting into the shape of my hand.

Its tension is found in slowness, as every muscle down my arm focuses on you.

Its intimacy is found between us. It is just us and the music.

We move quietly.

We twist, your circles mirroring the music.

The music pulls us upwards and its line draws you. We carve the air in a semicircle around where we were just sat.

The music transforms, darker, louder, profundo, diminished chords clattering.

The tension seeps into my body, down the muscles of my arms, into you, little ball.

It propels us forwards, towards watching eyes.

A sforzando amid a rising sequence affirms our strength. But it can't last.

We sit back where we were and lose ourselves once more in the circling melody.

Now they see us but we are hypnotised.

It is still just us.

Together we are lost. Away from the world. But we are together.

3 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All


I lie there, back on stones, shoulders on stones, bones on stones I feel the cold water stroke my skin from toe to head I become it, it becomes me, we become touch and sound My breath is the sea, swel

End of term with new aspirations.

With the arrival of the summer holidays I can turn my focus back onto playing the flute. It has been a tricky few months, working and teaching online, and my flute playing has suffered. I am excited f

Reconnecting with my flute-playing body

Covid-19 has disrupted our lives in all kinds of ways, but being forced to stay home has provided me with some much-needed and appreciated headspace. I have read more. I have drawn, written, cooked. I

bottom of page