Sitting in the classroom, just minding my own business, I have a lot to do. The sounds of a piano waft down from amidst the rhythmic strums of a bass and staccato melody of a cello. I try to focus on my task. But the piano's lively song pulls at the corners of my mind and I find myself involuntarily drifting into the music. Dancing on colorful melodies laid against a vast darkness, I try in vain to keep my heart out of it, enjoying the moment just the same. Life so dark, music so light; the notes seem to bounce off the walls and sky, amplified by their pure and joyful intent. Stepping and twirling among themselves; little black dots that are girls and boys; the page comes to life. But there is no page; this tune is new and pure--and we, the virgin audience. Music so badly needed, fulfilling the secret need of every person within its sound.
The pianist's eyes betray his passion and I am unable to keep from smiling.
In defense, I turn back to my work, drowning out the music with a screaming rant deep inside the rooms of my mind. Darn that pianist.
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