VIVALDI (stepping forward into soft morning light):They called me the Red Priest,but I was never bound by robes or rules.My sanctuary was the breath between notes.My sermons: thunder, frost, and the sigh of spring grass.I did not compose the seasons—I translated them.From leaf to bow, from storm to string,I chased what could not be caught:the feeling of … [Read more...] about Vivaldi’s Four Seasons Reimagined: A Play in Sound and Soul