The Violinist

From the depths of silence, out of nowhere, the violinist starts to play the soothing but mournful tune, tugging the strings of my heart. I slump slowly into my seat, crossing my arms, trying not to let the tune embrace me – that feeling – I tried not to let it come near me. But as the violinist played it, with so much love and passion, I didn’t realise tears welling in my eyes until they started falling. And when the first tear drops fell, the rest gushed out and the next thing I knew, I started sobbing like a child. Every pain I had felt, every anguish I had accumulated, every heart-ache I had experienced, everything just rushed out from my eyes in the form of tears. Old memories started playing in my head and I felt the head becoming heavy. The muscles around my forehead strained, I had been trying to keep a straight face but I couldn’t help it. I let go of everything as the violinist strokes the violin vigorously ascending the music to a crescendo. And then with a stroke or two, he ends that piece. The audience gives a standing ovation and clap their hands while I stay slumped in my seat, my forehead aching, my eyes still wet, and my mind still reeling from that moment. I didn’t clap. I was too tired and relieved. But I thanked the violinist in my heart. Thank you for those moments O`Musician.



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