I stare at the black and white keys, trying to find meaning in them as all renowned concertists seem to do. My fingers stumble across the patterns, and flawed music fills my eager ears, but it is all part of it, to figure and test and try and fail. After a short moment, my hands dance over the piano, carressing the music out of it, out from where it was hidden. A smile softens my lips. I have solved the mystery. The music is mine.
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PIANO! WHY ARE YOU SO BEAUTIFUL?
