A new morning, I feel very nervous. I think I should take my violin with me, but wait! What am I going to talk about? I need to have a reason to speak to her; I am not just going to say “hello, my name is Mark”
Hmmm, this is very embarrassing, I really don´t know what to say, is she going to be nice? Scared? Come on Mark don´t be scared! All this conversation was happening inside my mind; I packed my violin and went downstairs, outside my house there was the calm morning breeze, everything was still quiet because most people are still sleeping at this time of the day, but I have to go to the university, so does she.
I always go alone, but this time I wanted to go with her, I waited for some minutes in front of my house, waiting for her to come out. Finally she emerged with a small purple backpack, wearing jeans t-shirt and holding a jacket in her arms.
I was looking for a way to call her, but out of all the best ideas, I picked the worst.
-HEY!-
I called, she turned her face to me and smiling she said.
-Yes?-
I started to walk over to her and offering her my hand I said.
-Hello, my name is Mark-
I was so ashamed! After so much planning I ended up saying something very simple. I hope she doesn´t feel offended.
-Nice to meet you Mark, my name is Josephine.-
She answers taking my hand and shaking it, then she smiled waiting for me to say something else, I asked her…
-Is it OK if I walk to the university with you?-
-Sure, no problem.-
It looked like an English classroom, with “hello, nice to meet you” and “nice to meet you too”. Maybe you read this and you think I am a kid, not an adult, but if you would see her, you would understand me. Her eyes were brown, like the wood of my violin; her hair was so beautiful, shiny like the strings. But she had something more, she was even more special than my violin, because in her I could not put my feelings, she had her own feelings!
The way I was feeling at that moment is like when you understand you´re not alone in this world and everybody is as important as you are, I don´t feel scared anymore…
Part 3
In the end I was carrying the violin with me; I decided that it was appropriate to start speaking about it, so I said.
-Did you like the music I played yesterday?-
She smiled, carrying her backpack in front of her; she made a little elevation on her shoulders and answered.
-Yes, you have a very nice talent. But you get nervous very frequently. Why?-
Ironically I got nervous at that moment and that stopped me from answering back. She placed her hand in my shoulder and asked.
-Are you ok?-
-Yes, I am fine. It´s just that we are speaking about my violin and probably you think I am egocentric.-
I said, the real reason was that I got nervous every night because every moment she was paying attention to me and my music, the sound of my instrument disappeared and there was nothing else but the sound of my heart, the sound of my nose when the air passed in and goes out.
Every time wondering what was behind her eyes when she listens to me, and when she closes her eyes I feel even more nervous, because I feel we are not in our houses anymore. I feel we are having a conversation with our hearts. But maybe this is just obsession, maybe telling her all that would make her feel stalked, pursued and observed.
-You have a very nice ability there Mark.-
She interrupted my trance, then she continued saying.
-I would like to recite one of my poems with your violin at the background.-
-Are you a poet?-
I asked, she moved her head up and down three times in a positive response. In that moment another of my qualities relaxed me, curiosity. I stopped being nervous and started being anxious about her talent, so I asked her.
-Can you read something for me?-
-I don´t have any poem with me right now, but I know them all by memory.-
She answered, then got prepared by taking a deep breath and started reciting.
-Your music inspires me like nothing more. When you start playing it, I run into my room and close the door; I take a pen and paper to write. And dream about your tunes during all the night.-
Part 4
One feeling within each line. That is a great poem and it is for me, I can’t stop the red color that is coming out of my face, and I feel like a kid when somebody recites something like that.
-So, tell me. Did you like it?-
She asked, I nodded and said “yes” very deep inside my heart. And what my lips said was…
-Wow, when did you write that?-
-I improvised it. You know what they say, when it comes from the heart.-
She answered calmly, I was very amazed. She was simply perfect, and I needed to tell her.
-Your voice inspires the same way my violin does. Why you never recited a poem before? Like I share my music with you.-
-It’s complicated, when you play the violin your house is covered in a magic aura. But when I recite, it’s just my voice.-
She changed her voice tone to, making it a little sad. I was so distracted in my conversation that I didn’t noticed when I placed my hand on her shoulder and unconsciously I said.
-Your voice is as magic as my music, and without that magic, my music would not have any sense.-
In that moment, the one who turned red was her. She stayed silent and with a neutral face expression, she was still red.
-I’m sorry, I didn´t want to offend you.-
I apologized, she moved her head to the left and right repeatedly and smiling again she said.
-No, no, no. You didn’t offended me, you made me feel so happy that I don´t have a way to express it.-
In that moment, I quickly took my violin out and placed in my shoulder, ready to play it. Forgetting all of my nervousness I said.
-I know a way. Relax, improvise, and recite with me. I will follow your voice.-
She looked at me and with the red on her face and sparks on her eyes; she started reciting again, We were walking and I was playing my violin, following her voice and creating our melody, the melody of sound and voice, the melody of strings and hearts. . .
The end.