Background Music: Nocturne in C-sharp minor by Frederic Chopin
The soft sounds are like whispers in my ear. It seems to thrust itself into the muffled noises our lives have reduced to. A quiet tinkle, so subtle like that of a dew drop falling from a leaf, yet so powerful as those rain storms that whips up your blood and allows every cell, every ion in your body to turn towards the thunder and lightning. The music seems to release a part of me that I thought was locked up forever.
I love the piano. In that simple statement, my life hangs. The notes seem to slice through the cerebral custard of our brains and speaks of simplicity and subtility in such a grand and complex way. When I see others play, it is as though the music seems to be flowing out of their heart, through their fingertips onto a black and white surface.
Hear it again. Pick up the old, forgotten CDs and let it speak for itself, not through lyrics, but through the hammering of steel strings, disintegrating my voluntary silence and leaving fragments of raw emotion, dangerous and vulnerable.
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