my favorite music in figaro is only forty seconds long, from 0:25 to 1:00. I can't hear it without getting goosebumps.
the tiny, sweet scene in act iv that I mentioned the other day (if you watch straight through you will also see rosina forgive the count):
even though all of us are exhausted, figaro is too beautiful, too sweet, and too true not to love.
and yes, if it looks like I am consciously avoiding the mention of anything regarding my life, it's because I am. craving intense solitude and privacy; trying to nurse stubborn wounds. it isn't forever, but for now writing and memory are too closely tied, and I am trying hard to forget.