The piano is still,
waiting to be played
The notes sheet is still,
waiting for a song
He feels, but he is blocked
he doesn’t know how,
how to express it,
express the love he feels
Thinking,
the trash—cann is filling up,
he just writes a few notes and...
wastes paper...
It must be perfect,
perfect to the perfect girl
But how?
He thinks of her and... she isnpires him...
High, low,
four quarters,
sharps... he plays
sweet music
High: the level in which he loves her
Low: the intensity of the sorrow
Slow: the moments without her,
fast: the moments when he runs to find her
four quarters: the time he waits to see her
sweet: just like her
Perfect;
he looks like a madman,
with the pencil in his mouth
and his hands playing the music
A music she isnpires him to make
A sweet, simple, but perfect song
he finishes the song and calls it
“Perfection to the Perfect One”