Piano Anonymous

I have discovered another world behind the sturdy, white structure of my Bösendorfer. I spend countless hours on my slightly worn piano bench, which wobbles every time I move my body in accordance with the music. I turn pages that contain the same music Chopin once wrote by candlelight, hunched over his desk, scribbling notes in ink. Over the years, piano has become one of my strongest passions. I love the keys. I love the sound that resonates from the ever so meticulously constructed interior. The beat of the metronome corresponds with the pulsing of my heart, as my only desire is to recreate what great composers have left behind. As I practice, I long to play like Beethoven once did, the melody slipping effortlessly through his fingers. My yearning has taught me self-discipline, and has kept me motivated, even through struggling times, when playing the measure perfectly seems impossible. Through the piano, I am able to express myself and share my creative side with others. Playing becomes a form of therapy to me, as the staccato melody of Khatchaturian's Sonatina drowns out my thoughts. My fingers run up and down the keys, and I know that soon enough my piece will be ready to share with the world. It is enthralling to...