The violin a voyeur
"I hear a prelude, words I detest for their familiar ring, a chord so rich bathing my skin, and the rings of Saturn, the breath of a long horn, the resounding drum of skin tight, and the butterflies, and the caterpillars, and the pizzicato of fractured fingers, I hear a voice woman and a voice man, the chorus of molten flesh, imprisoned flesh, and the melody of a bite, teeth puncturing, and the long, long whistling sound of air between lies."
--The Lesser Violin