The woman of the scales by K. Michel

The woman of the scales half hidden under the foliage of an imperial figtree she stands in a check apron broadly-build and on plastic slippers their red colour standing out vividly against her tanned skin she is about forty her children except the youngest have all left home and her husband, that's a different story she is not standing there doing nothing no, between the overhanging leaves protrudes the large opening of a sousaphone she holds its tubular body tight in her char-arms while she practises scales and the sparkling like full-blooded tones burst from the bell of the metal horn and her cheeks go boom flap boom flap up and down like the wings of a bird ponderously flying up out of the water later that day after the cleaning of the thirtieth hotel room she will put on another dress at home and make way with her sound ahead of the bridal couple, first to the church and then to the feast while the rest of the marching brass band will let themselves be pushed forward by her bass tones a last detail: she wears no rings she believes in the existence of the soul

K. Michel [1958] photo: Roeland Fossen

Original title: De vrouw van de toonladders From: Tirade 349 November/December 1993 - jaargang 37 - Uitgeverij G.A. van Oorschot, Amsterdam