TE15 Lithuanian Honey Cake

The Grand Piano Room

no subconscious thought that had brought me here in the first place. The feelings were not there. Perhaps I was tired after all the work storing the canvasses? I stood in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do. It was not clear what I should paint. Nothing struggled to get out onto the canvas. Nothing demanded to be expressed. I suddenly realised I was full of another, unfamiliar feeling. It was anger, resentment. Resentment of what? I glanced at the piano and I realised. I hated the piano. Quietly, almost unconsciously. It shouldn’t have been in the studio taking up so much space, overcrowding it so badly. I thumped up the stairs. Fortunately, I didn’t meet anybody on the way. The door, the door to the grand piano room – it should exist. The grand piano room should exist. I wouldn’t be able to live without it, there was no way I could. It wasn’t there. Fatuously, I moved my hand up and down the wall. Then I went down to the studio again and tumbled into a chair. How easy it is to lose your peace of mind. I opened the piano fallboard and ran my fingers across the keys. I needed to calm down. I ran my fingers across the keys again. Something had happened to Chopin – it was not Chopin, definitely not him. It did not sound the same, though my fingers moved the same


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