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Which One of Us Is Watching?

March 31, 2010

Played piano on my own, the melancholy visible through the movement of my hands. Although the room was small I had an exceptional view of the city. Only a glass wall separated us.

For a moment, I wondered if I was the one watching the city, or the one being watched?

The city seemed to move to the chords I struck. F Major allowed a row of cars to make a left. An A# Major changed the lights from green to red and granted pedestrians passage to the other side of the street. A sequence of sharp notes brought rain. A single key altered the color of the buildings, the sky and the walls in the room.

And yet the city’s movements persisted, even without the sound of the keys instructing the hammers to strike at the tautening wires. I did not command the workings of this city. The city was simply reacting to the lament in my song; the dream was changing its elements to display this sadness to me.

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