White shirt in my closet

There’s this one white shirt in my closet that I really, REALLY like wearing. The only flaw it has is that it has this small brown stain on the right sleeve. But otherwise it’s the perfect white shirt I liked, loved even, when I first bought it.

But I hadn’t seen it until this morning, when I was looking for a presentable, one-class-only-for-today shirt. I wore another shirt, because I wanted to wear that white shirt in my composition class. Not that anybody cares, nor would anybody mind, just, I want to wear it to composition class, after swimming.

That one white shirt in my closet reminded me of how perfect something can be, but also how we tend to ignore perfection when all we see is the small brown stain on something we used to love.

Lonely piano nights

The past few days almost every night is a lonely piano night, in that I always begin with Liszt’s La Campanella and finish with Mozart’s Für Elise, if and when I stay awake long enough. The playlist’s an hour and twenty-seven minutes long, sometimes I fall asleep even before the Five Fingers theme comes up.

There are certain favorites in between those two songs: Chopin’s Butterfly Etude, Black KeysWaltz in C# Minor and Waltz in B Minor, and Beethoven’s Rage Over a Lost Penny and Moonlight Sonata, among others.

I love how the piano calms me down, somehow. I think it’s the Waltz in C# Minor that goes like a heartbeat in the first few notes; it’s very calming.

I love how the keys can make so many different sounds, not just depending on what note they are but also on how the pianist touches the keys.

I love how in the last part of La Campanella it sounds like duelling pianists even though there are only two hands playing on the keyboard.

I love how pieces are called etudes and nocturnes and waltzes.

I wish I could play the piano, too. So that I could make these sounds that I love.