English Week 4, Writng Task
No
idea, no idea at all. I walked to window still looking at the young boy becoming
a figure of the distance. Paul, so much to learn so much further to go. Chopin,
I know it, I guess I know it the same way that they know it. To play that
longing oh how I miss it. Playing for the sake of playing, to enjoy the mistakes
and rejoice on the success to be young and in love. I know where he has been and
I can see how much further he has to go but he must always remember to have
respect. It is not respectful to play the music like that. He only thinks of the
now. It is all that we are fixated on these days, the now. Not the tomorrow. You
may play your music your way today but will it still be the same
tomorrow?
The phone rang and I heard the stern question of a mother of concern. She sounds the same as him. Only concerned with the now, not the later. She knew it as well as I did that he had a long way to go but it seems that he was only alright with the idea of living in the now. The technique, it is all about the technique. He doesn't let me help him. And what he said was inexcusable, iwant to show him. But practice takes time and I have the time. Unfortuneatel he doesn't. Something that my dearest Mathilde taught me was the technique is everything, you may hit a baseball and it may fly, but it doesn't constitute success. If only he would listen. But I know that one doesn't truly start to listen until they are well and truly older and even then what more do they have to hear? It is like learning to ride a bike, you may stay upward but it oddest mean that you will always more forward. Forward. The word that so many long to hear, yet dread to face. The future. I put it simply for the woman, her son needed to learn how much further that he has to go.
The phone rang and I heard the stern question of a mother of concern. She sounds the same as him. Only concerned with the now, not the later. She knew it as well as I did that he had a long way to go but it seems that he was only alright with the idea of living in the now. The technique, it is all about the technique. He doesn't let me help him. And what he said was inexcusable, iwant to show him. But practice takes time and I have the time. Unfortuneatel he doesn't. Something that my dearest Mathilde taught me was the technique is everything, you may hit a baseball and it may fly, but it doesn't constitute success. If only he would listen. But I know that one doesn't truly start to listen until they are well and truly older and even then what more do they have to hear? It is like learning to ride a bike, you may stay upward but it oddest mean that you will always more forward. Forward. The word that so many long to hear, yet dread to face. The future. I put it simply for the woman, her son needed to learn how much further that he has to go.
