I sat at the table with Satie and we discussed
the gymnopodies he kept in a goldfish bowl.

I advised him that they could be an interesting
subject for a piece of music.

He handed me another buttered scone and shook
his head indicating the idea was no good.

I filled his wine glass from the large decanter and
watched him take one or two sips.

He looked across the room to the bowl where the
tiny aquatic shapes swam between broken shells.

The room was silent and I decided not to interrupt
his train of thought with a misplaced word.

The decanter slowly emptied and after an hour of
silence, he unsteadily rose and walked to the piano.