For solo piano, with a relentless left hand
The right hand tries again. This time in A♭ major: sweeter, almost tender. For four bars, it believes it can escape. But the left hand — the destino — tightens its grip. The major mode wilts back to minor. The melody breaks. ostinato destino
The left hand drops to a whisper. But something has shifted: the right hand plays B♮, then D, then F♯ — alien notes, impossible notes. For one breath, the ostinato stumbles. A crack in the mechanism. For solo piano, with a relentless left hand
The destino does not end. But neither does the ostinato's strange, stubborn beauty. But the left hand — the destino — tightens its grip
The left hand begins alone: — four notes, over and over. An ostinato. A locked groove worn into the wood of the world.