Chinky

I swore to myself I wouldn't make racist remarks in this post.

A delightful crescendo of noises, escalating from a single source. It seems impossible that a single instrument, despite how massive, could create a sound as varied and beautiful as it is now. The notes flow seamlessly from the piano, spiraling forever into the air, every note transferred from the fingertips to the keyboard, a tribute to those who played on this grand instrument before her, every note sounding out in perfect unision.

The pianist, lost in the moment of creation, sits at the the bench, a silent figure among the noises around her. The mute figure is a testament to the works in process, fingers working at the keyboard, slender fingers jumping from notes with a speed that would confound even the most astute of observers.

This is creation, pure and simple. They say God created the universe from nothing, but even that incredible feat is rivaled by the beautiful sounds of the piano. It is in that moment, at the climax of the piece, when the rich, dulcent tones surround the single member that consisted of the audience, if only for a second, when all noises but the rich tones of the music are blocked out, and everything in the world seems to be at a perfect harmony.

The music, so beautiful it was, seemed to make everything perfect for just a single moment, the final note sending out a wave of innocence and beauty throughout the world, making the world seem like a better place, if only for a second.

And then, it is lost. The reality returns with a crash, a crash of silence signaling the end of the piece. A roaring, deafining silence, one that fills such a void after the music is over.

Music is the epitome of human creation. Few scientists have created things as wonderfully satisfying as a wonderful, perfect piece of music.


Hey, I made through that entire post without referring to asian people.
Awesome.