TE15 Lithuanian Honey Cake

The Grand Piano Room

think, and it seemed to me that perhaps I should look at it from the opposite angle: what was strange was not the fact that the piano room had disappeared, but that it had ever actually existed. It was difficult though to establish the boundary between reality and appearance: was it not strange that there, on the smooth surface of the wall, there had once been a door? At least, it felt stranger to affirm that the door had existed, rather than say that it had never been there at all. However, feeling a little unnerved by such an odd and incomprehensible situation, I plucked up the courage (having decided to avoid hysteria) to talk to my family. It’s good that I am circumspect! ‘What are you talking about, Jura?’ my wife said, glancing at me oddly. ‘What door are you talking about?’ She even stroked the smooth surface of the wall. ‘Never mind,’ I replied with a wary smile. ‘Perhaps I’m overtired. I’ll go and do some work at the easel to distract myself.’ I went down to the studio. My intuition whispered to me uncertainly: if it turned out that there was no piano room any more, could it be the same with the studio? I chased the thought away as I descended the stairs. The studio was where it had always been. Closing the door, I let out a sigh of relief. But I knew the piano room too well to believe that it had been a fiction. I recalled all the wonderful moments, the hours spent in the


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