- PART OF AN IMPROVISATION -

This is the story of a few musical notes, made by someone, somewhere, for someone.

The hotel was practically empty, and within two people in the breakfast room we were in a scene from Shinning. Upstairs, in a room of almost indecent dimensions, slept an old piano with keys that belonged to another era. The windows overlooked the park. Opposite is the maison de maitre, the old tiles distorting the landscape. A journey opens up for me. I owe these notes to Arturo Coralles, at least part of them, a definite impulse. Yet I only heard him for a few seconds in a contemporary music class. He sat down at the piano and put his hands on it, and the magic happened. It was subversive, unexpected, not respecting any rules or conventions. He would say so a little later in the course.

This is part of an improvisation, in which I play the way I imagine a virus penetrating a computer system, perhaps influenced by my studies. I play this suite we were in. That letter I never wrote and that ending that was far too brutal and subversive.
I play that terrifying monster, the ego, the anger, the fear, the rejection, the enthusiasm that never lasts, the illusion of happiness that never comes except with a bottle of wine for a night.
I'm telling a certain story, mine perhaps, or someone else's. Who hasn't felt lost?

Who hasn't felt lost? I remind myself that if all is not well, it's not over.
Where are you again?
Gone...

I'm lost in the distorted reflections of the windows overlooking the park. The piano resonates, I play with it. The birds are magical, I seek the harmony that sings without stopping, I stop thinking, it's my time to fuck conventions.
The piano has a vibration, some more than others, this one sings and accompanies me at times, it's a dialogue, a dance for two, even if in the end, when I leave this room, I'll be alone. But a man who can't be alone is a terribly dull man.