She had a book about him lying around, and I picked it up out of curiosity, wanting to know more about the master of unstructured structure. Quite the eccentric. Lived in a one-room apartment in the southern suburbs of Paris for most of his life. Wore the same grey flannel suit every day. Saved his fingernail clippings, and, according to someone who may have been his enemy, his urine. Walked to and from his job in Montmartre. (I like to think of him composing as he went, the Gnossiennes as the sound of Paris, which can be moved through at the walker’s own speed.) Gave his compositions odd titles like Three Pieces in the Form of a Pear and Dried-Up Embryos. Commanded the player not to play andante or adagio but to Ask!, to play Deep in Thought, to Make Demands on Yourself. To play With Great Benevolence, or Without Pride. At one point the musician – or the music? – is Quite Lost, and at the very end the instruction is to Bury the Sound.