"The monster never breathes," the poser Berlioz supposedly laid about the an, but I found the opposite to be true. When I played I felt alive and at oh the mae, as if exhaling the music. Tess and Edward visited the studio to hear the lengthening shape of my position and at the end of the performance my son said, "You were moving the same as I was breathing." Over the course of a year, I worked on the symphony during what hours I could steal, regeing it stantly from the desire to fess, seeking to craft a texture that would allow me to explain. I felt that if she could but hear my story in the music, Tess would surely uand and five. In my studio, I could take refuge at the keyboard. Lock the door and draw the curtains to feel safe and whole again. Lose myself, find myself, in the music.
By the springtime, I had secured a small orchestra—a wind ensemble from Duquesimpani from egie-Mellon, a few local musis—to perform the piece when it was pleted. After E……（内容加载失败！）
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