One Hand, Two Melodies
Every Tuesday afternoon at three, I enter a music studio for my piano lesson. The place has become very familiar to me. Every week, I see the cleaning lady vacuuming the floor between students. I wash my hands at the sparkling basin she has just cleaned. It is part of my Tuesday routine. The room has become familiar. What I hear inside it has not. I learned to play the piano when I was still a young girl and stopped taking piano lessons when I was thirteen or fourteen because I did not intend to major in music. But I never really fell out of love with the piano after I stopped taking lessons. I continued to play whatever melody caught my ear. I booked a piano room to practise whenever one was available, and I continued adding to my collection of piano scores. My sight-reading has improved over the past few years, and I became able to play more of the pieces I loved. Some pieces, such as the second movement of Beethoven’s Pathétique Sonata and Schubert’s Impromptu D935 №2, had become ve...