If, as they say, all thought is indeed anthropomorphic, then perhaps we need not concern ourselves with the possibility that our inner monologues might come from alligators or elephants—though certainly, at times, they might seem to originate from trunks or tooth-lined maws.

Yet there still remains the question of the nature of that invisible internal body from whose lips emanate, in ostensibly interminable streams, those persistent whispers in our minds. For my part, I am inclined to regard thoughts as emissaries; that monologue, to me, seems more a dialogue.

And in music, as in life, most of the action seems to transpire on the surface of things—or at least, that is as deep as most are willing to delve—for far more often do we prefer melodious façades to the murky harmonies coalescing within the depths. So I have endeavored, in this etude, to submerge the moving line in those depths. I have cleaved off melody, leaving bare the musical fore, and placed that crucial voice within an harmonic cocoon.

The challenge then, is to make clear the central motion within the surrounding stasis—to make those inner voices, buried as they are, speak out at last.