by Anna Baker Smith

It’s the evening of Palm Sunday, early April and cold, the sky over downtown Amherst dark. Just inside an old stone church, our little choir of twelve is seated in a circle near the heavy wooden doors. On the wall behind us is a marble plaque, with the words of a long-dead parishioner dedicating the bell tower in memory of his now also long-dead wife. Continue reading “Dying for Gesualdo” →