someone’s practising piano in the apartment close to mine.
i can hear it muffled through the window. they are playing the same piece. i get up to open the window to hear it better, and also to let some cool air. the temperature gauge reads 17C (62F) but it feels at least 10 degrees warmer. i’m sticking to my sheets in a thin nightshirt.
instead of hearing the piano better i’m just greeted with street noise. i turn off the light on my bedside table, as though the dark will somehow make it easier to listen. i can now hear a voice singing along to the piano. although it sounds like it’s coming from across the way, the piano above me. i jump out of bed and stumble through the dark and open up the sliding door to my balcony in an attempt to locate the source. definitely one person, not two.
so i sit, on an upside down milk crate, in my pj’s clutching a mug of water under the leaves of the cherry tree to listen to the rest of their practice. i feel a bit like an intruder, but it’s just so peaceful on the moss-covered balcony, chords floating through the still night air. any noise from the streets below seems muffled from the sound of the piano and the rustling of the leaves.
and everyone seems so close, but so far away.