At first, it was wrapped with a plastic cellophane almost suffocating in a paper carton box.
Then, it stayed some years in warm house, where it had to function almost like a servant: trying to develop the artistic abilities of the young members of the family… Always having no personal sound of voice but becoming the mean of expression… and always staying so silent.
This silence came to stay for good one rainy Sunday morning. It ended up on the wet pavement waiting to fulfill its own faith… Lying next to the garbage box, was out of fashion anymore because there was not enough space in the closet for the new collection of Blue Ray Films…
This society rejected it so easily and condemned it to become a spare part for a washing machine….
Sometimes I am wondering of the African and Asian Beethovens who were born and died. So many people that were incredibly talented but never discovered this talent because simply were raised in the wrong society: Of the third World.
I wish I could send them this keyboard so far… I am sure they would find one million words to thank me but basically one that anyone can understand: The language of music!
May the soul of the black keyboard rest in piece….
May our minds appreciate sometimes the gifts of God…
4 years ago