ÒAnd besides, I reasoned this way: IÕve described many unpleasant and even tragic events, as well as several sinister and repulsive figures. My relations with them brought me much sorrow and suffering. And I thought perhaps my experience in this regard could also be of some use to people younger than I. Perhaps they wouldnÕt have the horrible disillusionment that I had to face, and would go through life better prepared, more hardened, than I was. And perhaps their lives would be free of the bitterness that has colored my life grey.Ó
Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê Ê ÑDSCH

Ê Ê Ê Ê And so here is the sad story in three acts with a prologue and epilogue. That is, the first act is my initial time at Mtsensk, the second my downfall and depression, the third the comeback at Redwall, and the prologue and epilogue are what they sound like. ItÕs easier for me to consider this epic, so to speak, as a piece of music with such divisions rather than as it was. One might say IÕm trying to cover up or emit certain truths and realities by taking that approach, but IÕm only taking it how it comes best to me. To image the thing in mental moving pictures is far too difficult. I consider everybeast involved that I knew personally and all I see is corpses. Add in soldiers and Redwallers and those numbers become mountainous. And to consider the spirits lost by citizens and artists oppressed, not to mention the actual works and ideas that never left the minds of the downtroddenÑwell, it fills me with a horrible depression. That thought alone keeps me rather sad, but to constantly run through and verbally retell the causes would leave me grieving all the time.
Ê Ê Ê Ê And so to write the story as music is easier. It was still painful to do, but I did want to tell the story that way. ThatÕs what the Redwall-Mtsensk Suite isÑa compilation of relevant, emotional pieces I wrote during the actual event, as well as some new sections IÕve written only recently. They were bandages, so to speak, over wounds previously too raw for me to write about. But as thatÕs filled in, the piece tells pretty much the whole story. And thatÕs why this text manuscript is, I think, unnecessary. Music is fully interpretable, you know, when itÕs meant to be. But I forced myself and went on remembering to write this, even though some of the memories were difficult for me, certainly painful. Perhaps with reconsideration, though, I allowed myself to see more of what I missed by testing a new genre. You now have your explanation, and perhaps it wasnÕt completely futile for me to recall that grey, bitter period of my life again, now that the actual torture is over and only the pangs remain.
Ê Ê Ê Ê Except itÕs not completely over, though itÕs been several seasons since Zlaya died. I donÕt live at Redwall now, you know. It would be too overwhelming for me, to get applause like thunder whenever I played, to get awe when I simply showed up. I didnÕt want to be a part of this; I just wanted to be left alone, and that wouldnÕt work in Redwall. And I did not return to my old town, despite my longing to. ItÕs still part of the Mtsensk District, you know, weak under the rule of Vsevolod Zloyevich and on its way down, but still functional in some manner. To be left alone, I canÕt go close to there. I repeat it againÑall I ever wanted was to be left alone. ThatÕs impossible now, but Mossflower Woods can set me off enough to have space and time completely to myself. IÕm still prominent, and that wonÕt change, but I donÕt mind my music being well known. And at least I can create that music unhindered now, and I can hope that perhaps others will find something instructive in this simple tale.