would you like a small sherry dear at eleven thirty? too early for me before the brahms. piano set in by the wall boxy sound. other pianist the other wall. two seconds it was nearly always too late. such stretch of hands no yoga in those days. clean keys so sound- then it was all go. the piano back to the window lighter on the keys sound meravillius. sounds need to keep the rhythm entry crisp count one and so it was always too early and boulevard night frost laid low mood oh where is the sound now? real first go stop at the light and above the piano the sounds cell writhe and stretch and rise and stretch to the rubber preparations inserted and measured so sounding beat sounding box arrive paris. from the stitch and wooden panel lined wood sound crustacean doors and little skirts and bag full of scores and hand still scores. late home. practise every day don’t count the time seems to unfree the time to write in the little notebook rub it out and keep pace. quietly upstairs someone else practising. is it a nicer piece than mine? why can’t i play that. always something new with in picture on the wall turn around dancer don’t look down, tuner come sing. sing plain sing e e e e d sharp d sharp d sharp a sharp then a chord sing play and on with flurry of chordal jazzing pedal playing smoke gets in your eyes menthol it was.