Music and Solitude

I imagine the air is alive with Mozart. It’s a summer evening, the balcony doors are slightly ajar, and the curtains are dancing... to the wind or to the music? No one is quite sure. And while the lamp casts soft shadows about the room, a father sits in the chair reading the newspaper, quietly listening to the child practicing their recital piece.

I imagine the air is alive with Mozart. It’s a summer evening, the balcony doors are slightly ajar, and the curtains are dancing... to the wind or to the music? No one is quite sure. And while the lamp casts soft shadows about the room, a father sits in the chair reading the newspaper, quietly listening to the child practicing their recital piece.