Do you play an instrument? Is there a musical instrument whose sound you find particularly pleasing? Tell us a story about your experience or relationship with an instrument of your choice.
Without question it would be the cello. Followed by the piano.
Both those instruments are amazing at evoking a multitude of emotion from those who allow themselves to be that… vulnerable.
There’s something about the cello that I really connect with on an emotional level that I really can’t quite explain. Generally speaking the cello creates quite haunting and beautiful music; it usually depicts sadness and despair and heartache – it just resonates with me. It’s quite powerful.
I remember when I once worked in the city, and the closest train station hadn’t become what it is today, and it had a series of interconnecting walkways leading to different streets nearby. The tunnels were always full of commuters and it created this incredible echo. One day I was on my way to work and I heard this music playing, but couldn’t work out where it was coming from. As I continued along, with one ear lifted slightly higher, listening to the music, and followed it until I found the source. There, sitting against a wall, was this woman playing the cello.
Everybody would just pass her by as though she didn’t exist, and didn’t even bat an eyelid at the sight or the sound of her music. I, however, was completely fixated on her and stopped for about 5 minutes just to listen to her play. I leant up against the opposite wall enjoying the beautiful music, which was regularly interrupted by streams of commuters rushing by, but it would then suddenly stop, the people would disappear and the tunnels would echo with the sounds of the cello. I the. Realised that I’d spent just over 30mins standing there watching, and not even realised it. I reached into my bag and grabbed my wallet and gave her the last $35 I had on me. I dropped it into her open cello case and made eye contact with her. She graciously nodded as I mouthed ‘thank you’ to her and continued on my way.
The next morning she was there. And the morning after. And the morning after that. I actually enjoyed my commute to work, simply for the fact that I would get to see her and listen to her play. To the point where I would purposely make sure that I left home significantly earlier just to allow me extra time to enjoy her haunting sounds. Whatever change I had on me, I would throw Into the case and she would always smile. One morning I had arrived almost an hour before work, and I threw $50. She had just finished playing and quickly pocketed the fifty, just in case anybody saw it and tried to steal it. She thanked me, and I thanked her for making each day such a pleasure. Her name was sarah.
That was the last day I ever saw her.