Two middle aged men were talking on the street corner today. One had a small simple wooden string-instrument under his arm, He carried it like a newspaper; it was as long as a flat wooden cooking spoon. I overheard them as I waited nearby for my bus.
“What is it?” said one, pointing.
“It’s an Angel Harp,” said the other, holding it up so his friend could see it clearly.
“It only has one string,” he observed.
“It only plays one note. ”said the owner, raised brow, downcast eyes.
“It plays God.”
"Do you play it often?"
"It's playing right now."
"I don't hear anything."
"Well sure, the traffic, the wind, people."
"Look carefully at the string, can you see it's vibrating?"
"Yeah, but come on, are you telling me if you stop that string from vibrating everything will simple vanish?"
"No, that would be impossible,"
"That's a relief,"
"But all the sound, all the audible, all the music of the world, would certainly end."
"Sorry, I didn't catch that," he said into a sudden crushing silence.
A finger lay on a dead string.
It was the end.