Tonight I practiced Beethoven’s Quartet No. 4 in C Minor in the living room. The violin notes reverberated off the hard wood floor – the tone crisp and bright. I sped through the passageways, staircases, and halls of this complicated music. I stopped and started again. Ferocious fortissimos. Brooding pianos.

Then, in the silences, I began to notice another sound. Behind me, the old upright piano was ringing. I played a run of notes and stopped, and the piano strings vibrated in sympathy. The notes sounded far away and eerie, like a long forgotten song.

I want to be like piano strings – trembling with the echoes of the world, whispering Truth.

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