Friday, January 7, 2011

Passion: [Beauty] When a person is completely overcome with beauty and loses all sense of morality.

PASSION. 
My passion?
 ...Music is pouring out into this cold afternoon air: Beethoven, Bach, Schumann, and Debussy. My practice room windows are now open to let the cold January wind in. This damp, high ceilinged room smells of dust, smoke and candels. [Sigh.] In spite of everything, a slow reluctant joy is rising once again.
AND...
I really don't know what i'd be without my little old piano. It's at the least: intoxicating...More than drugs. 
Intoxicating myself with the sound of my piano keys and the smell of you still lingering on me. And here I'll stay, perfectly content.
Me? I'm a mirage.
Floating from one place to the next. Stumbling, i should say.
...as I play these haunting melodies, my piano is a comfort. "Play on, keys! Your pianist has broken the trance." I hear screaming through the melody. But, I'll play the keys this time, instead. 
My old piano is a comfort tonight. Maybe it'll distract me...enough. </3
charlie.
 
 

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