The symphony starts with a loud ringing sound, a gentle but unsettling voice, incomprehensible speech pounding in a tone like dusty thunder. People shuffle to their seats with cups and silly hats. Others cackle at the awkwardness of crossing the stage to sit down; they all make little spectacles of themselves. A gatekeeper emerges, taking vague steps, with lazy posture, eyes heavy and pointed. They are lanky and lumpy with limp hair and black lines on their face to emphasize their eyebrows. They do not stand like a conqueror, they do not appear to be comfortable or brave. There is an ambiguity about their fluttering eyes, it is unclear if they search or if they apologize. Audience pinches an irresistible desire to smile. They settle from the initial swell of anticipation but the air continues to vibrate with expectation.

The gatekeeper is tangled. Meem is tangled. A sequence of various clowns join the tangle. It’s all quite messy and the anthem of bitten plums is roaring, tearing off the hair on people’s necks and scorching their eyeballs and fingertips. They laugh. Perhaps they do not hear the plums or perhaps they quite enjoy the sound.

The song is a fragmented ballad of dissonant noise and intricate silence. It sings of the little captain man who fell in love with Madame La Broome but she did not love him back. She broke his heart in half right there in the living room! He is crestfallen.

As he diligently puffs on a cigarette, he notices Madame has fallen down. Is she dead? Why no, it turns out Madame is actually a broom! Little captain is very excited about the activity of sweeping. A stupefied loverboy approaches Meem and it has been many months since they last spoke. The interaction is unsatisfying. Meem is embarrassed and haunted for the next few days.

The ballad continues. Naughty Granny finally kills the fly she has been chasing. She squeals and wiggles in a squeaky eruption of joy as the room applauds her. She is triumphant and her pleasure drips into the grinning teeth of cackling audience. They celebrate her and it makes her huge. She comes back for more time in the spotlight, to soak up all the love until people lose interest a bit.

Meem appears to mark the end of the spectacle. They stutter, inarticulate and flustered in the space of hot attention. As they bow someone cries for more and Meem sighs a bashful and breathy ‘no.’ They weave through tight hugs and swollen compliments, smiling but untouched by the meaningful words they have been waiting to hear. The passionate earnestness of audience response bounces off their skin while only moments ago, Naughty Granny would have rejoiced in it and likely peed herself.

Little captain man can fall in love so shamelessly and love for Meem feels like poisoned stomach seeds. Granny likes to be celebrated and Meem cannot bear to be held. How can this be?