hands tracing the worn keys of a piano
the sound of repeated scales echoing down the hallway
spending hours in a practice room, playing until your fingers know the notes as if youโd been born to play them
the discordant whine of strings being brought into tune
sloppily drawn treble clefs
listening to pieces until you know them by heart
a rush of excitement when you pick up your instrument, the knowledge that youโre going to create something beautiful
the silence in between the last note and the audienceโs applause
learning to play your favorite pop songs and movie soundtracks
music swelling, the orchestra working as a whole to bring something into being
delicate flutes and the beautiful low tones of the cello
dried roses from long ago recitals
the satisfaction of getting a difficult passage right
crumpled pages of composition
going to concerts with your friends, critiquing the interpretation of the selected pieces
callused fingers from hours pressed against the strings
folders of sheet music stacked on your shelves
etudes youโve played a hundred times, ingrained in muscle memory
pretending to conduct the orchestra while listening to your favorite symphonies through headphones
playing with your eyes closed, feeling the music in your body and mind
the conductorโs notes scribbled in pencil during rehearsal
the puff of rosin dust at the first stroke of the bow
concert clothes, crisply pressed and sharp black
hitting a powerful chord on the piano, letting the sound ring until it fades into nothingness
kaledo-art
stormborns
yousharknotpass
dededos
jacobvanloon
izzy806
gummygunk
