08.30.07
Posted in Musicalia Miscellanea at 1:18 am by Miracle ♪♫
“Let’s study class, let’s study class. Sit down.
Love-ology, love-ology, I’m sorry-ology,
forgive me-ology, love-ology…”
…slowly festering through an innocent
“by the way, have you heard?”
“…rummaging for answers in the pages…
and it’s contagious.”
“…beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth.”
“I hear in my mind all of these words
I hear in my mind all of this music
I got lost in the sounds…”
“…and it wascoffee and coffee and coffee
and coffee and coffee and coffee some more…”
“…they come and go as if
they’re someone else’s days…”
“…And everybody’s features
have somehow started blending
And everything is plastic
And everyone’s sarcastic
And all your food is frozen,
It needs to be defrosted.”
“I catch me a horse driven carriage ride
from a local man named Ethan Frome…”
“I’m not a skillfull water carrier
but I’ve learned to carry love.”
“The words right through my skin…
The consonants and vowels
The consequence of sounds.”
“Don’t tell your secrets to anyone
Because ideas are vulnerable.
As soon as you say your idea out loud,
Then it can go and live on its own.”
“Well this is how it works
you peer inside yourself,
you take the things you like,
and try to love the things you took,
and then you take that love you make,
and stick it into someone else’s heart.”
“Love, Love, Love, Love!”
“Life inside the musicbox ain’t easy
The mallets hit
The gears are always turning
And everyone inside the mechanism
Is yearning to get out
And sing another melody completely
So different from the one they’re always singing
I close my eyes and think that I have found me
But then I feel mortality surround me
I want to sing another melody
So different from the one I always sing.”
“Waiting to pupate…”
Permalink
08.28.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 7:36 pm by Miracle ♪♫
Man in the moon…
I espied you blushing last night.
Were you abashed
that mother earth eclipsed you?
Being in a female’s shadow
is not a shameful thing.
It does happen from time to time.
Man on earth…
Show me how brave you are.
Don’t be afraid to cry.
Permalink
08.25.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 11:14 pm by Miracle ♪♫
It had not rained for quite some time…
but it did recently… and I danced.
I then closed my eyes and spread my arms wide
and waited for a familiar raindrop.
Eventually it came, plopping itself comfortably on my lashes. I smiled with my eyes still closed.
Where have you been dear feisty raindrop?
I understand it takes a while to kiss other cheeks, fall to the earth, emerge as moisture, condense, and
precipitate… but don’t be gone too long next time.
Ah, so you’re running down my nose!
The first time it was my heart,
Then my mind and soul…presently it’s my nose.
Well, well, I think that’s sweet…
as long as you just keep
falling my way.
How many instances have I tried
to keep you in my palm,
and you always manage to slip away?
Hmmm… now I know why.
You’re too special to be kept
inside one’s palms dear
raindrop.
Do what you must.
Rain on the needy… Kiss other cheeks…
They need you, too.
Earth would be barren without you,
and the sky would be blue.
Just don’t forget,
that when you first fell on me… I fell for you.
That’s why I miss you
even when the sun shines…
and why I love it when it rains.
Permalink
08.20.07
Posted in 2007 Mosaic at 8:33 pm by Miracle ♪♫
Along with an archaic house comes the onus of waxing the
wooden floors – and this happens to be my responsibility. Yea, ladies and gentlemen, you can enlist me
in the Guinness Book of World Records as the only musician who undertakes
serious house work - but I am not complaining. This is how I stay fit without having to diet or engage in strenuous
aerobics. By the way, I am grateful for
the inventor of disposable gloves for that has stopped me from getting further
splinters while waxing the floor.
So what has music and lyrics got to do with waxing floors? Go ask Tom Robbins. The man can relate conch shells to Jewish and
Islamic conflicts… so why not music and janitorial duties? Okay, I’m kidding. The connection I’ve made to music, lyrics,
and chores is much simpler than Tom Robbins’ sophisticated ruminations. It all starts with, “Dan, I can’t work
properly if you don’t turn on some music.”
This time, I was expecting Sarasates and Wieniawskis to
blare life and energy into my quasi-lazy mood… but Alas! It was Irreplaceable Beyonce. Dandi said it was good since I’d be waxing
the floor to the left, to the left…
I whimsically agreed with this musical perversity… er… not perversity… still
searching for the appropriate term… ahhh… caprice!
Yes, so this musical caprice went on while I varnished the
floor with wax to the left, to the left.
A lot of Rap tracks followed - of
course, Dandi picked out the ones without cursing. Come to think of it, this is today’s music…
but I had to ask silently, where’s the music in this? I tried to remember what RAP
meant. Was it Rhythmically at Peace? Rhythm and Poetry? Rhythmic American
Poetry? Suddenly I recalled my African-American connections in Multiply. They are all writers, and I noticed that
their phrases contain this amazing natural rhythm and melody! I highly acclaim their work, but I sort of
panicked… is music slowly dissolving into words when music used to be “love in
search of a word?”
Ugh… was I thinking of things too seriously again? Franz
warned me about the way I thought. But where
is music’s direction?
Out of nowhere, someone answered…
To the left, to the left…
Permalink
08.19.07
Posted in 2007 Mosaic at 8:25 pm by Miracle ♪♫
It Might Be Tiu
Yes, that was a very common phrase during elementary days while
teasing and crushing were rampant. Ha ha ha
I’ve credited and wrote about the people who have made great
impacts on my life… but here’s someone I haven’t written about yet.
Vincent Tiu.
Vinz’s family presented a tribute to their grandmother and I
was invited to carry out a couple of tunes on the violin. Naturally, I accepted the pleasure of playing
for the family who gave me my first violin. I did not regret doing so. For even
though there was quite a large and intimidating audience who would have made me
back out (haha), I felt a certain intimacy with the Tiu family.
Vinz used to come over to the house right after school, panting
and sweaty from running… and later he upgraded to roller blades, then a BMX
bike, then a mountain bike, and a motorbike came next, then a jeep, and now an SUV. He used to play tunes on the piano, I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing, Dear Heart, and of course, he
spontaneously progressed to pang chicks songs.
On the guitar, he mastered every introduction of all the popular songs of our time
(It Might Be You, You’ve Got a Friend In Me, When You Say Nothing at All, Everyday I
Love You, More than Words, Leaving on a Jetplane, etc.), thus, inducting
himself into the league of Intro Boys.
Hahaha Vinz was a heartthrob - with an
emphasis on was. =P Hahaha (Kidding Vinz)
Girls went nuts over him, but I won’t begin mentioning who
those girls were. Hahaha
Oh I remember the lengthy phone conversations and everything
else!
Evidently, Vinz filled our younger days with happiness. It’s obvious since almost every sentence I’m
writing is decorated with hahaha.
Seeing him tonight made me happy. Not that kind of giddy and reckless happiness
of childhood, but that kind of rewarding and pleased happiness. I am relieved and appreciative of how he
turned out to be. He has grown so much…
but I’m glad to see remnants of childhood’s hyperactivity (hahaha), and he
secretly made me secrete tears of joy when he sang with his siblings.
This boy who was,
this guy,
who is now a man,
is in the chorus of his life… and It Is Tiu who is a
living proof that we can get through intros successfully, and that friendships
do last despite everything...
Vinz, I hope that whatever means of transportation you may have, may you always find your way back to 041 Rizal Ave…where You’ve Got a Friend In Me… forever. =)
Permalink
08.16.07
Posted in Lil Bro Talks at 2:52 am by Miracle ♪♫
Pain…that which causes us to become seemingly hopeless and helpless a fortiori… and once we reach an age where we attain a putative adult mind, we lose a certain kind of insight towards pain. I did – until I recalled something that Misha had said when he was about three years old.
Misha was playing with my niece Michelle, and due to his decalcified teeth, he had been suffering from a terrible toothache the whole day. Suddenly, he paused from their game and with gentle pleading, asked Michelle innocently, “Would you like to borrow my toothache?”
He thought that pains could simply disappear when passed on to someone, and that may have sounded so cute, funny, and absurd at the same time…but looking back, I realized that there was actually some wisdom in his tender
puerile words.
Who said pain was for us to carry alone when in truth we can give it all to God?
.
Permalink
08.14.07
Posted in 2007 Mosaic at 9:33 am by Miracle ♪♫
Tagline: The dread of him who came later
and her reply that startled both of them.
Note: The following conversation occurred in real life and
might not be suitable for those who cannot handle forthright honesty. No animals were harmed in the making – but
humans were.
“I’m afraid I can never replace him.”
“You’re right, you can’t. No one can ever really nullify another’s
role in my life, for each person is distinct and peculiar… the same way no
one can ever take your place.”
“I fear that he will always be better than I.”
“Yes,
perhaps and perhaps not … but we have to accept and admit that there will
always be someone better than you or I, and that these same people we should
not treat as rivals but as beings that we may learn from.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to love him forever.”
A stunned
silence, and then a whisper,
“I’m afraid
so, too…”
Permalink
08.13.07
Posted in Jest for Pun at 8:24 am by Miracle ♪♫
10 PHILOSOPHY QUESTIONS, ANSWERED!
By Richard Harter
10. How do I know anything really exists?
-Kick it *really* hard.
9. What is the essence of being human?
-Not understanding the opposite sex.
8. If a tree falls in the forest, and there’s no one there to hear it, does it make a sound?
-Not if it lands on a bunch of pillows.
7. How do I know I’m not just a brain in a vat, hooked up to a computer simulation of life?
-Look in the mirror. If you see a gray, spongy thing in a glass container, you are.
6. Can our minds exist separately from our bodies?
-If they could, we’d just send our minds to class and sleep in every morning.
5. What is the nature of Knowledge?
-I’m still trying to figure out the nature of *college*.
4. What is the meaning of life?
-All evidence to date suggests it’s chocolate.
3. Why get a Philosophy degree?
-It’s more respectable than a theater degree, but you still get
to drink lots of espresso.
2. So, was Kant on drugs or what?
-Probably.
1. Heidegger - what was that all about?
- Nobody knows
Permalink
08.12.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 7:21 pm by Miracle ♪♫
Beatrix Potter once proclaimed that she would never
marry! She had her art, what more did
she need?
Sounds incredibly familiar, huh? Yes… She reminds me so much of myself.
…but of course, that was before her publisher came into her life and taught her how to dance…
Miss Potter is a very
charming movie that also has its tragedies and conflicts. I personally would place it alongside Little Women. Despite its piddling historical
inaccuracies, I would still rate the movie highly. American actress Renee Zellweger nailed a British
character once again – and very well indeed. A sweet smile matched with intelligent strength inside, her role was of a
woman who could not be easily wavered, and Ewan McGregor added just the right
formula to this biopic.
This film is also proof that a movie can be successfully
romantic even without bedroom scenes. It’s a film for every woman, and every family. By the way, she’s not a relative of Harry. =P
Permalink
Posted in 2007 Mosaic at 12:00 am by Miracle ♪♫
“How can people be so
insensitive?”
That’s the first question I asked myself this morning… and I
burdened myself with that weary load of a thought as I made my way through the
day.
“Don’t they know how
much it torments me?”
I asked myself as I pulverized the coffee beans and prepared
espresso. Papa and Mama were smiling at the breakfast table (no,
they’re not who I’m referring to as insensitive), and I went on with my
straight face. The rich coffee that normally puts me in a jovial mood
didn’t seem to work this time.
Misha showed me his caterpillars after breakfast and I was
amazed with these creatures. I regarded
on how they’d miraculously morph into free graceful beauties from monstrous earth-crawling
beginnings. Humans are actually given
the chance to experience such metamorphosis, too… I had more thoughts concerning this kind of rebirth
and transfiguration, but then another thought took over, “How can people be so insensitive?”
“Don’t worry, be happy,” sang Bobby McFerrin as Dandi turned
up the speakers.
“Maybe I can do just
that if some people would just cease to be so insensitive,” I muttered.
The sun shone brightly. It’s Sunday! Sunday means preparing
special meals with Mama and that usually causes me to be rather excited. There in the kitchen bustled my UberMama and
I through the whiffs of delicious aromas… and as a kitchen time custom, she
asked me about my friends. Then a tear
dropped – not because of the onions, but because of – yes,
you guessed it – “insensitive people.”
All of a sudden, a heaven-sent realization struck me. Who was being insensitive here?
From the moment I woke up I had been gifted with the sunshine, my
family, nature, coffee, the power to think, a mother who cared so much, a home,
food, music, and there I was in the middle of all these…an insensitive,
ungrateful idiot. God forgive me.
How can I be so
insensitive?
Permalink
08.09.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 8:27 pm by Miracle ♪♫
"Not a Day Without a Line"
Starting on June 25, 2007 The Daily Pliny
will be an attempt to discipline my writing
habits the Older Pliny way.
As you may have surmised, the title is
a nutty variant of The Daily Planet.
Until I reach another inevitable writing fermata,
I shall do my best to update this post everyday.
———————————————————————-
August 1, 2007
My August Haiku
Welcome August one
I can see July is done
Reign new thirty-one
———————————————————————-
August 2, 2007
Misha on Bartok
I ran through Bartok.
He composed "messy" music?
My little bro asked.
What?! I love Bartok!
What if I play it slower?
Would that un-mess it?
But it’s not the speed
He said, Bartok sounds messy.
I was quite appalled.
He has yet to learn.
But I like the way he is.
He sure speaks his mind.
———————————————————————-
August 3, 2007
He played a glass harp
Did naturals, flats, and sharps.
What a lovely art.
———————————————————————-
August 7, 2007
Pineapples & Books, and a Few Nasty Pounds
The
long drive from Cagayan de Oro City still rocks me gently. I easily
get nauseous but I thank God for enlightening that person who brought
forth Bonamine, because even though my equilibrium was jiggled, the
food I ate behaved and remained in my tummy. Credit also goes to
Haidee, Lester, and the rest of the family for exquisite and enjoyable
company. Enjoyable is in fact an understatement considering that
laughter was more constant compared to the road reflectors and
milestones.
CDO has changed so much. We lived there for a
couple of years during my childhood. I have pleasant memories of CDO…
whether or not I was simply too young and naïve to see the city’s
impurities. The tree-lined beach in the subdivision we used to live in
is now nothing but a bare grey strip covered in indecent haze. The
kalesas have been replaced by smoke belching jeepneys and the “city of
golden friendship” has suddenly become quite hostile. The messy
electrical wires seemed to choke my view. They have better hotels and
malls now, but I felt wistful just looking at how one of my hometowns
had turned out… I don’t want to see Dipolog this way in the future.
Bukidnon
on the other hand, was a whiff of pure air. You couldn’t help but
praise God for nature. Pineapple plantations as far as Forrest Gump
could run through, acacia trees that whispered serenity, and zephyrs
that said “breathe me, breathe me.” It was indeed a drastic contrast
to Ozamis’ corrupted atmosphere, Iligan’s industrial pollution, and
CDO’s metropolitan filth. By the way, Bukidnon has the most enormous
and gratifying steaks I have ever seen or consumed.
CDO however
has a certain favorable feature – book stores! Ah, you’ll be amazed!
In one crammy book sale, I found a number of authors and works from my
wish list.
After two days in CDO, we’re back in Dipolog with a load of pineapples and books, and a few extra pounds in my butt.
It’s
unbelievable how dust - and pounds, accumulate within three days! It’s
alright though, I’m going to use cleaning to burn out these nasty
pounds.
I’m back and I still love Dipolog more… there’s no place like home.
*Hums “Over the Rainbow”
and “What a Wonderful World”*
For more photos of the trip Click Here.
———————————————————————-
August 8, 2007
About Rach
What is it about Rachmaninov’s music?
It is metaphysical…
it has a soul of its own…
…and once you hear it,
it is intravenously instilled
in your being for eternity…
It takes you to unknown heights…
…but makes you wallow
in pangs of sorrowful depths…
It suspends you in the air, and forsakes you
in sweet
abandon into a vast space…
Did Rachmaninov pierce himself with a quill and write music
with the blood he drew?
Did he furiously bang on the bells of Moscow until they were reduced to iron notes
on an empty sheet? Were the whole notes originally drops of tears? Did he extract his manic-depressive brain cells and
magically skewer them in musical staves?
Or did he simply fall in love?
———————————————————————-
August 9, 2007
Sevenly Beings
Beryl entitled this Answering Dustine,
a scheme of revealing seven personal verities concerning your being and
passing it on to seven people. Evidently, she got this from Dustine…
and I obviously got it from Beryl and will now begin to answer her.
I call these my Sevenly Beings.
I. It is my goal to center everything I do
in love. Unfortunately I stagger most of the time, but it’s comforting
enough to know that someone up there is willing to help me.
II. Music has conquered me.
III. I
used to be negative towards philosophy… only to discover later on that
the people who were meant to influence me greatly are philosophers
themselves, and they have taught me so much and drastically changed the
way I thought.
Oh, wait… actually, they made me begin to think.
IV. I
marvel at the arts – literary arts, visual arts, and performing arts… I
used to wish about being able to experience and learn all the fields of
art, but since that is quite impossible, I can only try incorporating
various fields of art with a paint brush and a pen.
V. I know the people I love by their
scent. I myself am surprised and astonished with that fact. Even at
night when I dream of the same people, my olfactory senses are present.
VI. Coffee is in my blood… or rather, I have blood in my coffee. =P
I
believe “loving” coffee is superficial unless one undergoes the
grinding, pressing, and witnesses the thick hissing liquid from those
exquisite beans.
VII. I
am enchanted with the heavens and every miracle that occurs in it
everyday…. The sunrise, sunset, moonrise, moonset, stars, thunder,
lightning, rain, black holes, the movement of the planets, meteors,
comets, solar flares that are manifested in polar lights – that’s why I
hope to see the aurora borealis and australis with my own eyes.
…and that’s my seven. Did you know that my favorite number happens to be seven?
(oooops, that makes eight facts now)
Abiding to the rule, it’s my turn to forward this to seven people;
Sergei Rachmaninov,
Johann Sebastian Bach,
Orhan Pamuk,
John Fowles,
Rembrandt van Rijn… hehe… kidding.
Okay, listen up you seven…
Franz, take a break from those Brunei
chick-students of yours. Here’s a chance for you to do some
ink-shedding. Miss your writings. Although I know more than seven facts
about you already, it would be fun to hear them in your own words.
Reji, take a pause from the hotness. I’d like to hear your own seven. =)
Tonet, ever sweet Tonet, this is not the board exams. You can do this in a flash. =)
Vinz, a reminder of childhood “describe yourself” portions in my autograph. =)
Mae, I think am gonna see Josh’s name along your seven. =P
Haidee, just so you’ll have a break from work – and baby-sitting Lester. =P
Marivic, coz you always have something interesting to say. =)
———————————————————————-
August 10, 2007
The Hardest Thing
Yes, fellow piano teachers… the most difficult obstacle you will ever
come across piano teaching is not ADHD, autism, nor mental retardation,
or any kind of physical disability. It’s when a kid can’t distinguish
the right hand
from the left. Trust me… I
encountered that dilemma today. Haha =)
———————————————————————-
August 11, 2007
Barista Blues Haiku
I, the barista
Who will fuse coffee for me?
Aha! Nobody.
———————————————————————-
August 12, 2007
Sense and Sensitivity
“How can people be so
insensitive?”
That’s the first question I asked myself this morning… and I
burdened myself with that weary load of a thought as I made my way through the
day.
“Don’t they know how
much it torments me?”
I asked myself as I pulverized the coffee beans and prepared
espresso. Papa and Mama were smiling at the breakfast table (no,
they’re not who I’m referring to as insensitive), and I went on with my
straight face. The rich coffee that normally puts me in a jovial mood
didn’t seem to work this time.
Misha showed me his caterpillars after breakfast and I was
amazed with these creatures. I regarded
on how they’d miraculously morph into free graceful beauties from monstrous earth-crawling
beginnings. Humans are actually given
the chance to experience such metamorphosis, too… I had more thoughts concerning this kind of rebirth
and transfiguration, but then another thought took over, “How can people be so insensitive?”
“Don’t worry, be happy,” sang Bobby McFerrin as Dandi turned
up the speakers.
“Maybe I can do just
that if some people would just cease to be so insensitive,” I muttered.
The sun shone brightly. It’s Sunday! Sunday means preparing
special meals with Mama and that usually causes me to be rather excited. There in the kitchen bustled my UberMama and
I through the whiffs of delicious aromas… and as a kitchen time custom, she
asked me about my friends. Then a tear
dropped – not because of the onions, but because of – yes,
you guessed it – “insensitive people.”
All of a sudden, a heaven-sent realization struck me. Who was being insensitive here?
From the moment I woke up I had been gifted with the sunshine, my
family, nature, coffee, the power to think, a mother who cared so much, a home,
food, music, and there I was in the middle of all these…an insensitive,
ungrateful idiot. God forgive me.
How can I be so
insensitive?
———————————————————————-
August 13, 2007
Miss Potter
Beatrix Potter once proclaimed that she would never
marry! She had her art, what more did
she need?
Sounds incredibly familiar, huh? Yes… She reminds me so much of myself.
…but of course, that was before her publisher came into her life and taught her how to dance…
Miss Potter is a very
charming movie that also has its tragedies and conflicts. I personally would place it alongside Little Women. Despite its piddling historical
inaccuracies, I would still rate the movie highly. American actress Renee Zellweger nailed a British
character once again – and very well indeed. A sweet smile matched with intelligent strength inside, her role was of a
woman who could not be easily wavered, and Ewan McGregor added just the right
formula to this biopic.
This film is also proof that a movie can be successfully
romantic even without bedroom scenes. It’s a film for every woman, and every family.
———————————————————————-
August 14, 2007
Reality Bits
Tagline: The dread of him who came later
and her reply that startled both of them.
Note: The following conversation occurred in real life and
might not be suitable for those who cannot handle forthright honesty. No animals were harmed in the making – but
humans were.
“I’m afraid I can never replace him.”
“You’re right, you can’t. No one can ever really nullify another’s
role in my life, for each person is distinct and peculiar… the same way no
one can ever take your place.”
“I fear that he will always be better than I.”
“Yes,
perhaps and perhaps not … but we have to accept and admit that there will
always be someone better than you or I, and that these same people we should
not treat as rivals but as beings that we may learn from.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to love him forever.”
A shocked
silence, and then a whisper,
“I’m afraid
so, too…”
———————————————————————-
August 15, 2007
In a touchy mood
I’ve got my monthly period
You better be good
———————————————————————-
Permalink
08.07.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 8:28 pm by Miracle ♪♫
What is it about Rachmaninov’s music? It is metaphysical…
it has a soul of its own… and once you hear it, it is intravenously instilled in your being for eternity…It takes you to unknown heights…but makes you wallow in pangs of sorrowful depths… It suspends you in the air, and forsakes you in sweet abandon into a vast space…
Did Rachmaninov pierce himself with a quill and write music
with the blood he drew? Did he furiously bang on the bells of Moscow until they were reduced to iron notes on an empty sheet? Were the whole notes originally drops of tears? Did he extract his manic-depressive brain cells and magically skewer them in musical staves?
Or did he simply fall in love?
.
Return to Home Page
Permalink
08.02.07
Posted in 2007 Mosaic at 3:59 am by Miracle ♪♫
Capricious Rhapsody
in the style of twisted Pamuk
Play philosophically and with much jocularity.
I am a piano,
an upright piano.
I am not grand.
An endangered few do
prefer to be upright,
rather than grand.
Many uprights there may be,
But not because they choose to be.
Many grands there are as well,
Of their fame people will tell.
Of the uprights be wary.
Some can be hypocrites, trust me.
Of the showy grands be watchful,
Babies and Six-footers alike are powerful.
I, however
Discriminate neither.
For a piano upright or grand is whole,
Only when it has a soul.
With a soul the grand be upright,
And the upright shall be grand.
I am a piano,
And I have a soul.
You shall know,
My story as a whole.
“Wood and metal scraps thou art,
And unto wood and metal scraps
shalt thou return,” they say.
But the how-I-got-my-soul part,
Let me narrate, I pray.
I am a piano.
But I was just an ordinary piano.
I had dreams, too.
Dreams like Richters, Ashkenazys,
Cliburns, and Argerich, too.
What sort of piano wouldn’t want to
be under their touch?
Not just to listen, sit down, and watch.
I wanted to feel them tickle my ivory fancies,
And realize my ebony fantasies.
Gould and Helfgott would have amused me.
Though I’m not saying they’re
in the same category.
But this was not my destiny,
Something else befell me.
A kind girl took me home and made me hers.
Makes me go weak in the hammers!
To me, she pours out her emotions,
From laughter to lamentations.
She spends hours with me,
And I know she loves me.
To be loved,
To be loved!
That’s how a piano gets a soul,
That’s how I became whole.
I am a piano.
Anything else you need to know?
Permalink
