There's this complicated thing inside me, but it doesn't go away in spite of my continuous playing - furiously - of the piano. Songs, one after another, which were meant to drive those complicated thoughts away with their
fortissimo and
accelerando and Chopin's frequent
rit. I thought, by concentrating on performing these musical instructions, I can gradually erase those complicated thoughts.
Seems like once again, music doesn't work as how I want it to.
It's something intangible, so intangible that I can't put it to words and describe it. Not even metaphorically. It's like a, like a stone or something, sitting on top of my little pumping heart, making its job even tougher.
Hmm, perhaps it has got some faint connection with all that's happening around me now. But I believe I can choose to not think about it.
Yes, Ivy you can do it. Just do what you always do best - psycho.
