The Recital

had her parents forced her into it like so many do, then she might still be a virtuoso, that is true, however, to see a kid make for themselves a hobby into a skill, just because they want to, is something that holds little comparison in the adult world, a place where obligation & environmental distraction rules out most beautiful ambitions allowing release on only the most begged for occasions--- Desislava adjusts her position on the bench, her hands placed now only inches above the ivories & the whole place is silent (but filled with anticipation) as the first chords drop & her left hand begins to strike in the same manner that Rachmaninoff himself might have when composing the Prelude Op. 3, No. 2, in c-sharp major--- a gentle coasting along at first as if massaging the keys as if her fingers were fluttering upon a down pillow & soon the flutterings begin to hammer down with pounding resonance & this skilled young woman picks up the pace ra-ta-tat-tatting like a machine gun along the intricate textures with fingers & hands smaller than the gargantuan composer’s not missing a note not straying from her interpretation’s aura not losing the rhythm being played out by her foot pedal & when you close your eyes all the drama being thrown from the piano your way begins to envelop your whole being & she has accomplished her greatest task, that task of a true great--- she has made you feel the music.