"How unfair that Klemmer lives but doesn't practice enough, while Schubert is dead. Erika Kohut insults a man from whom she nevertheless desires love. She unwisely thrashes away at him, nasty words booming under the membrane of her palate, on the hide of her tongue.
In the morning, Erika peers into a mirror, but can't see her eyes because of the fall of the folds. She gapes and gawks at her reflection, but the image doesn't improve.
Man and woman once again face each other, paralyzed in a struggle."

- Piano Teacher, Elfriede Jelinek

The ebb and flow in life push in uneven waves and toss us in ephemeral emotional furor. What a dramatic week it's been.