Kind of different to anything else I think. Christian's been running circles through my head. Muses will be muses though.

**

There are spaces in time that are never forgotten, but are replayed over and over in memories. The greatly anticipated opening night at the Moulin Rouge was no exception.

For many in the audience who watched the performance on the stage in awe remembered it as an extravagant array of colour, music and bright lights. They particularly remember the glow of the star, Satine the Sparkling Diamond in her acting debut.

Colour, music, lights, dancing and a love story - a Paris extravaganza, exceeding all expectations, every moment of that night would be remembered for years.

All except one.

The moment the lead actress died.

That's why he hated them. He hated their deliberate ignorance to the fact that an angel on earth had been snatched away by the hands of Death. He hated them because they didn't and never would know that the love story they remember so much was actually real, behind the curtain.

We were leading the love story
No one ever knew about
So our tragedy ended up as
Silence

There are parallels in the world, where one side is in a roar of celebration and bedlam and the other is silent as the grave with one single sound enough to smash a heart to pieces. The famous red curtain of the Moulin theatre was the parallel between the bliss of ignorance and the blade of reality.

The audience were on their feet, slapping their hands together in a deafening drumming sound, whistling and cheering relentlessly. The splendour of the atmosphere was painted in their eyes and there was no stopping them expressing it.

They didn't care that the curtain hung still across the stage.

He began to hate them then.

He hated the sound of applause. Whenever he hears it he remembers how they all clapped and cheered in an uproar as he cradled his dead love on the other side of the red curtain. He hated how they were so oblivious, naïve and innocent. He wished them to be quiet and feel the billows of his pain that were beginning to fill the sky.

We'd beaten the odds
That were stacked so high
But our triumph ended up in
Silence

Fairytales were created to have happy endings. Although there are some poisoned by fate's dark side and become tales of tragedy. The destiny of the Moulin Rouge was disguised as a fairytale and revealed as a tragedy.

The Hindi Courtesan had chosen the Penniless Sitar player and their secret song was sung loud enough to shake the rafters. The audience were blind to the hoarse gasps of the Courtesan and restored hope to the Sitar player. They saw a fairytale ending

But what they got was an unexpected tragedy.

He hated the world for it.

He saw a fairytale along with everyone in the audience, he saw triumph, he saw love, and he saw pure and true happiness. He hated the world with a bitter passion when the disguise was torn away and all was revealed. He hated the world's cruelty.

We fell into our own consequences
At our fateful end
And we endured them all in
Silence

It's always quiet at dawn, no matter where one might be. The world is still sleeping as the sun arises to arouse the world for a new day. The cemetery near the Moulin Rouge was always quiet no matter what the time.

The Courtesan was always visited at dawn by her love, when the whole world is quiet. He comes at dawn so his voice may be the only one in the world to break into the silence. He sings the secret song in the silence of dawn and it would always be the same.

Not a breath of wind.

Only one single tear.

He has a secret that he hates to have; he hates himself for feeling it. It torments him through the days and he dares not say it out aloud. He will never say it, but he will think it and he will hate it. His secret which he finds so ironic.

He loves her out loud but hates her in silence