At times like that I would pray to God to give me an older brother - and it wasn't just on those nights when I heard them getting spanked. I would wis... for him when I blew out the candles on my birthday cake. I would make the same wish when I saw the first star at night, but of course my prayers and wishes were never answered.So, instead, I imagined him. I created him in a fantasy - an archetypal female rescue fantasy, although I hadn't read Jung and didn't know that at the time.His name was. “Listen,” he said, “I know you can sing the notes. So why do you give me no passion? All the pictures we see of Ludwig make him look angry. I know. Angry - not sexy. We know little or nothing of his sex life.” He paused. The male members of the chorus looked away, one or two of my colleagues giggled quietly. “Or do we? Of course we do, and I will tell you how we know. What you are singing is Schiller’s Ode to Joy, isn’t it?. So think what gives you joy. Real joy. Then sing again for me and at. More

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