Bow

I like bows. Of violins, I mean. Violins themselves are deliciously graceful, but bows. A horsehair bow at a certain angle is absolutely a work of art. And while they're playing.... quivering, imperious, up and down and slanting ever so slightly- long mournful sounds.... or when, as during a blithe jig, they seem to be both evoking the music as well as dancing to it...
I suppose the musician is really to be given the credit, but you really don't feel like it, not after you've watched the bow, run a hand along those strings and heard the music it commands...
I fell in love with a bow once... a ceremony in an air- conditioned hall, dignitaries and choirs all, but I watched it, entranced, all through. A long, dark one, with wood dark and shining like mahogany, and parchment- coloured bowstrings. The violin itself was hidden behind an anonymous white shoulder, but the bow wove its spell powerfully, up and down, in and out, inclining with a refined gentlemanlike motion...