Dear Abby Inhabitants,

I have been away for some time. I had work that called from several other places and study for which I had to return to libraries and the halls of academia. I was not sure for some time if I would come back here to stay, or only to pick up my equipment and instruments which still fill the small cell. I arrived in the cold moments of early morning, before the dew had even begun to lift and found the stone halls chilly and empty of those living and - not. Such moments happen.

I uncased my small Celtic Harp and began to play, for no reason but that of hearts-ease. Then, in the stillness of stone I felt someone listening. I do not know who it was, but I felt you hear the music. I am not a performer. I do not play for laughing gatherings in the twilight, but usually for a darker cause. I was held here this morning by someone listening, and here I still am.

I have read the posts that have passed while I was away. I read the Abyss ask to have “forgotten language” invoked. Is music a forgotten language? We hear it, but do we know what it is saying, how it is calling, what it means? For now, I will stay, sending the language of Cecilia through these cold stone halls. I will listen - for listening.

Louise Anna Holmes