There are times, when finally after a long day outside, back at your own doorstep, you close the door, stare into the darkness, the living room, kitchen, bathroom, study room, bedroom, one by one, and begin to hope that something would suddenly begin to move, begin to talk, as if it is alive.
Alone, in the darkness.
There are no needs to turn on the lights, everything is well remembered, every corner, every object, they wouldn't run away. A cruel difference between people and things. Things won't and don't run away unless moved. People, do. They always do. You always do.
Another meaningless day has passed, every second you are off the piano is a waste.
I'm just tired.
Yves.
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