He could hear the music and feel it. His grandmother’s
touch, ringing pure and precise, echoed around this empty room. Her words were there, reminding him “Fingering!
Tempo! Correct…sit up tall…”
The music played in his mind, while the fingers moved, waiting for her older hand to
join with his: Two generations performing
music written centuries before.
Apologies for the voice over in this Synchrony Financial commercial
"Any changes?...No, still the same...It was just a fall, a simple fall...I saw it happen, so quickly...What does the doctor say?...Time, just time...But his fingers, see how they move...
Timing, have to remember the timing. Grandmother insists on perfect timing.
Oh, why are they talking during this recital? Don't they know how rude that is? One, two, three, and four...
"Will he come out of this...sleep...this coma?" I don't know. Like he said, it is a matter of timing and time...
Sometimes I've observed pianist at a recital sitting in the audience, playing the notes silently in the lap.




