Motion, Music, Family

I've never so enjoyed watching hands as I did tonight. At a concert she conducted in a college recital hall in the city, my dear cousin gently, firmly guided her musicians from the Tchaikovsky on the page to the Tchaikovsky I could hear. The baton in her right hand, she closed off passages and egged on the swells with the most articulate motions of her left. Secondary though it may have been to sound, there was a dance to it.