The very first thing I heard upon landing in D.C. in March 2020 was Donizetti. The Flute Sonata in C, I think. Whatever it was, I took it as a good sign.

It was just a standard afternoon selection on public radio, specifically WETA, the classical station that would become my local, assertively ringing from the rear speakers of our Lyft. When I piped up to ask the driver about the station, he added that it was the only thing he listened to. Then we swerved into another lane to avoid hitting someone. “It helps me relax!”

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