Music is a living thing.
And what, you ask, makes an object...live? What classifies something as alive?
Breath.
It's the musician's job to pump breath into their instrument, to create life. And when the instrument begins to breathe, well, then you've created music.
I remember this every time my fingers touch the violin.
I remember I'm handling something that can die, if I'm too rough.
When the bow strikes the string, and you hear the first note, you begin to relax. Your head swims. Your mind becomes blank. You're holding a conversation with something that understands.
Every note played is a word. The end of every word is the beginning of the next one.
I let the music build itself up to a raging climax, a torrent of sounds. I hold out the highest one. It floats through the air. My ears, and the ears of the world, long for a resolution.
I wait.
I grab the lingering note from space with my bow. I pin it down. I play the final chord.
The straining in my heart settles.
I set the violin down.
It dies.
But I'll wake it up again. I'll breathe life into it.
I'll make music.
OOO
A/N: I was a bit out of character, right there. But I was practicing piano, and the idea for this floated around inside my head. Music is a wonderful thing, isn't it?