The first week of falling back to standard time from daylight savings always seems to plunge every day prematurely into inky blackness, especially under the stubbornly drizzly Portland cloud cover. This is seasonally affective but not really pertinent to the present Shostakovich project, other than by contributing to an artificial feeling of shortness of the week. More concretely, yesterday I found that sundry work and personal tasks slowed me down in the already surprisingly slower-than-expected process of watching all of Albert Gendelshtein’s film Love and Hatred in ten-minute YouTube chunks.
Excuses, excuses; yet I press on. Next week, the movie, a ballet, music for cello and piano. Probably some early Prokofiev too.