"Though it was now dark, I knew he was awake..." ~ Jane Eyre

I have read the poem by Pushkin. I have seen Tchaikovsky's opera performed at the MET. I have watched the film adaptation. The rest of the story aside, what strikes me the most about Eugene Onegin is that singular scene when Tatyana is unable to sleep at night. Ignoring the surrounding situation, looking closely at that moment is the essence of passion and soul. Tonight on PBS, highlights of greatest performances at the Metropolitan Opera House are being shown; I have been fortunate to have the experience of seeing opera there, and seeing my favorite operatic heroine sing what is known as the letter aria.

She is in love, and she cannot ease her mind until she writes him a letter. (I write to you - what else is there? What else, what more may I attempt) She professes her love to him, line by line, unable to sleep because her body stirs at the mere thought of him. The letter is far from brief; rather, it is almost an epic poem of how deep her soul has been struck by his essence. It is a stunning moment in opera and the quintessential aria.

As always, art imitates life. Of late my hands do not type, and my balance of writing here is thrown off. Instead, my fingers hold a pen and write words, such as Tatyana's, that lie firmly pressed between sheets of paper and shall remain pressed there. In the meantime, I press myself into the pillow he slept on last night and inhale, breathing in inspiration to write, even if the words are never to be read by anyone but myself.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=fMv07i_PrCg (Mirella Freni as Tatyana...)