I sat there tickling my noggin, trying to recognize the music being played. Damn it, damn it I know the song. I used to play by ears when I was so consumed with nothing but perfecting my trills. I remember Ms. Tan, who kept tapping my pinky fingers because no matter how curved the rest was, they could not curve close to the keys. I spent more than a decade learning the art of pianoforte.
Today, I spend hours cracking a paragraph of words, words that are unforgivingly unartistic. With a cup of coffee and a shuffle of music to keep my interest awake. Music that is wordless but justifiably worth a thousand words. Oh what joy it is getting lost and never growing old of Canon in D.
Then he stood up realizing that we were clapping our hands. He walked up to us and smiled. “Would you like to request a song?” he said. “Ballad pour Adeline,” I replied. Three minutes and I was walking beneath an imaginary rainbow making my way out of this humid reality. Merci, monsieur. Vous avez fait ma journee.
