Originally much longer, prose-formatted scrawl about Maria Callas and her struggle to regain the emotional weight of her earlier performances (think 1952-1954). This was a metaphor for the inevitability of decline as we age. Through the last few evenings of dental pain that keeps one awake off and on throughout the night, the writing turned into something else. I don’t know why, but I still like the title as “Soprano” even when it doesn’t seem to fit the rest of it…but, it kind of does.
