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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4410 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention The Strange Affliction of Piano Vienna (Carole Barley) Love is piano nocturne, accoustics amazing whilst fingers explore pale marble pillars, clean uncluttered spaces, savaged by the occasional intrusion of displaced palms, green, photosynthesising quietly amidst million dollar sparks of genius. It should be sixty mile an hour guitars, mandolins wafted down a mandarin, Mykonos road; laissez-faire forget the words. It should be pan-pipes in a terraced dawn of mist. We are black, white, laid down together; anonymous until touched by the one who knows. Forte, allegro, resonance ; say it, feel the press of tongue on the n , the slow dispersing into space as the word leaves your lips, like the last note Chopin ever struck or stroked. There is a silent presence about the piano, polished deep in the intricacies of walnut, a dark breathing under ebony. This is my instrument of choice, taut, hidden strings, finely tuned blood-horse gloss, aware of the ache curled in hesitant, untrained fingers. |
