Peter and the Wolf

A letter comes from a far away land and reminds me of my days studying Gogol and Turgenev, the melody from Peter and the Wolf drifts into my dreams. It's the melody from the beginning, when Peter is setting out from his grandfather's house. Embarking on the journey. I've been on so many of them. And, like Peter, I've come across wolves of  all shapes and forms, with consistently sharp teeth. However, I am usually the duck that gets eaten whole and can be heard still quacking, albeit very quietly. Much as I'd like to see myself as the heroic Peter, I know that I haven't gone far enough, can't cavort and tease the wolf; he frightens and angers me. He sticks his tongue out at me and snarls. There is no music. But I know there is weakness in his anger. His teeth will fall out and his snarl will be reduced to a whisper. All I have to do is wait and keep swimming.