Remembering Fanny

Once she smiled, the atmosphere brightened, and ripples of joy and peace radiated around her. The animosity of the colors in proximity also softened in her presence.

Demurely she sat before a piano and started the first note with her fingertips.

Swiftly her fingers knocked out a series of notes unheard of on this earth. They danced, hopped and glided on the keyboard. They were freed and danced joyfully in such a way that the music seemed not so important. It was the time and space they owned, and you could only be the audience, enjoying each and every move as if watching a performance.

The owner of these fingers was Fanny, and it was in my dream.