Part 16 of the series “Letters from the heart”.
When we used to read each other’s letters on a lazy afternoon, under the sun of Rome in the 90s, the door squeaking sound with the wind blowing my hair while i’m writing your journal. That moment of time when you were young, and all that you cared about was the free time you spend in your room, which movie to watch in the evening, and what book I can read later at night. That divine moment, when your pain playing breathes in the house, entering every room, with my room next to yours, I can hear the music through the door, while lounging on the sofa, and reflecting on our time together, the beautiful sounds of the piano overwhelms the room making me feel safe and sound. I love to collect your transcriptions of music notes, they are my worldly treasures.
I can hear your music came through the door.
Tyufyakin Konstantin
