Piano !

Piano!

Weird how a piano can be so much a part of ourselves! Sometimes music seems to be a bit of soul, and it runs like an ocean inside us.
And even as I am typing this, my fingers are itching, they want to go and fly over the keys.
In Paris I can't play the piano. I only see my peeeno on wednesdays and week-ends, and when I tell myself : "Tomorrow you're going home. You're going to play the piano.", it's almost a physical joy.
Yesterday I spent the afternoon glued to the piano, playing, playing. I feel i'm just discovering the musical world. As if my ears were slowly opening to a new light.
It's like writing. It's like living.
It is living.
Oh, piano, let me be your wizard!

eyes

A few years back, in spring, as I was looking out of the window, I called my little brother and told him :
" Lorenzo, come and look! Look at this!" then, pointing at the window, "What do you see?"
He gave me a puzzled stare and glanced through the window. After a moment he said :
"What do you want me to see? There is nothing!"
- What, you see nothing?
- Where? Show me, I don't see.
- Just...look! Don't you see the tree here, and the grass bellow and the little birds hopping on the white stone bench? Don't you see that beautiful cloud up there?
- Aah! Those ! I thought you wanted to show me something special."

And that day I discovered the way of eyes. They grow so used to seeing things that they end up seeing nothing.
They just glide over the known world, barely acknowledging its presence.
Hopefully many are those who do see things. Each person sees something else.
Maybe if we could add all the visions of all the eyes of the world, we would have a complete picture of how the world is.

Piano

Don't worry about the future. Not too much anyway. That seems to be the wise thing to do.
But what if we are glued in the present, unable to think about next week, or even tomorrow?

It's so frightening.
All my schoolmates are talking about exams and such. All are spurred by worry, fear of failling...And 'I' is spurred by...nothing. Not spurred at all. I just move about, in a daze.
Except when there is a piano under my fingers. It looks like my heart is hidden inside all the pianos of the world rather than in my chest.

If I force myself to think of the future, I think : "Iceland!". I see yellow grass, cool wind, icebergs, waterfalls and children who speak icelandish. Sometimes I even glimpse a violin.
Could grass and violins be someone's future?

- Paris -

Taste : A light yellow soup that didn't stay long enough in the warming micro-wave, and a weird result : one side of the stuff was hot, and the other quite cold.
So each time I ate a spoonful, my tongue told me it was both warm and cold.

See : There are so many things to see in Paris, but so it is in the whole universe as long as eyes are here to witness.
Like the cobbles of some sidewalks.
Was it in Boulevard Saint Michel or some other street? I only recall it was a rainy day, and the sidewalk was all wet, its square stones shining, and I thought I was walking on jewels.
Jewels they were, revealed by Water's touch. The cobbles were made from different stones : some gleamed red, others were more geyish, some blue. All shining and leading the way, the beautiful fleeting wonder of sidewalks on a rainy day.
The picture-taker would have laughed aloud!