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The minor tune takes on a new shape, a closing cadence of deep, tragic sentiment, breath-stopping in its simple beauty. And at its end, for just a few seconds, a cloud across the sunset, it quietly slips from minor to a sunburst of momentary major in what we call a deceptive cadence. The sky clears, the movement comes to an end; the silence allows us to breathe, to wonder, “What hit me?” Then the music starts again: the finale, with a tune that might almost pass for “The Farmer in the Dell.” That, as I was saying, is Mozart.
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