She had sung perfectly-but she would never sing perfectly again.
It was as though she were blind from birth, and for just three hours could see-see all there was to see, all the colors and shapes and wonders that surround us all and that we pay no attention to because we're so used to it. Suppose you could see it all in its full glory for just three hours-and then be blind again!
You could stand your blindness if you knew nothing else. But to know something else briefly and then return to blindness? No one could stand that.
That woman has never sung again, of course. But that's only part of it. The real tragedy was to us, to the member of the audience.
We had perfect music for three hours, perfect music. Do you think we could ever again bear to listen to anything elss than that?
I've been as good as tone-deaf ever since. Recently, I went to one of those rock festivals that are so popular these days, just to test myself out. You won't believe me, but I couldn't make out one tune. It was all noise to me.
My only consolation is that Mortenson, who listened most eagerly and with the most concentration, is worse off than anyone in that audience. He wears earplugs at all times. He can't stand any sound above a whisper.
Serves him right!