16
Virtuosity on Digital Piano
Enemies of meta-descriptions, beware! (Or just wander directly to the next section.)
Salem: Or disappear! Because Tshajbukoshka is doing again what she does far too often.
Salem makes a pathetic attempt to cover his ears with his fluffy paws. After this endeavor fails due to its ineffectiveness, he turns back to Tshajbukoshka.
Salem: Wouldn't you like to turn the volume up a bit more so that you can be heard in every corner of the alley named after it? Why are the unforgivable curses so...
Tshajbukoshka, laughing cheerfully: Unforgivable? Forbidden? Not designed to work for cats?
With these words, she turns around with a mischievous grin. Sour makes funny! She throws a pinch of cinnamon in Salem's face. He doesn't flinch. Then it dawns on her like dragon scales falling from her eyes.
Tshajbukoshka: Oh. I didn't plug in the headphones. I just wanted to play for myself.
Salem: I must have misheard. PLAY? With what? With my sense of hearing? Sense of smell? Or rather with my LIFE and that of the entire neighborhood?! EVERYONE within a radius... of twenty meters should have heard this.
Tshajbukoshka hands him a bouquet of lily of the valley that she had actually picked for someone else: Here, look. Now get a grip! Please.
Salem raises his implied fluffy eyebrows: Exactly. Cinnamon and artificial flowers. How romantically they go together, I want to make a soup out of it - and accidentally shove you onto the hot stove, considering Merlin's probably distant masculinity. What has gotten into you? Do you mean that seriously?! After all this time?
Tshajbukoshka: Always.
Even as she says this, she plugs the jack of the cable into the designated socket and wiggles her fingers, stretching them, only to place them back on the piano. The brilliantly white, whiter than skin, and the silvery shimmering hairline of the gentleman in black-green, who appears before her inner eye and simultaneously evokes both sorrow and joy in her, a feeling of gratitude that she should have gotten used to over the last few years. And yet she never did. She closes her eyes and continues to play.
Should all of this be true or is it only happening in her head?
Salem: Of course, it's only happening in your head, Tshajbu. But why should that mean it isn't real?
As the silky black cat contorts his face in exaggerated pain, he jumps from the white and black keys and into his beloved darkness, which he is all too happy to be engulfed by.
Tshajbukoshka feels the emerging darkness, feels it above her. A few tears silently wander down her face, she does not wipe them away. Because to play the melody, she doesn't need her eyes, she needs her ears - and her heart.
Suddenly, many small lights appear, small but so numerous that they dispel the dark mark above her head.
And with each gentle press on the keys, each tone of the ensemble, a bit of happiness returns there, like a Christmas dessert effortlessly still finding its way into a stomach that should actually be full by now.
-------------------------------
How should I summarize it, how should I express it?
Salem hates the gentleman here. Perhaps out of jealousy.
Salem: Maybe I also hate the indecision, the confusion, the volume, the elegance of a digital piano that can never compete with the virtuosity of quality ingredients and smells worse than three months of plum pudding stored in a coat pocket compared to MY favorites.
Tshajbukoshka: Fool! Jiggly fat! Knickknacks! Squeak!
Salem: Yes, that's one way to put it. Please keep this here, in your so-called 'house,' my personal chamber of horrors. I can't think of a more fitting occasion for this.
Tshajbukoshka: plays on with a smile on her face for a long time, her discipline at least today unmatched.
-------------------------------
For reasons of convenience and readability, invisible quotation marks indicate that not all words and expressions used are my own.
Deeply connected thanks for the inspiration goes out to J.K. Rowling and the person who invented YouTube tutorials - especially this one today: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQnQCqyvo6Y
Salem: Or disappear! Because Tshajbukoshka is doing again what she does far too often.
Salem makes a pathetic attempt to cover his ears with his fluffy paws. After this endeavor fails due to its ineffectiveness, he turns back to Tshajbukoshka.
Salem: Wouldn't you like to turn the volume up a bit more so that you can be heard in every corner of the alley named after it? Why are the unforgivable curses so...
Tshajbukoshka, laughing cheerfully: Unforgivable? Forbidden? Not designed to work for cats?
With these words, she turns around with a mischievous grin. Sour makes funny! She throws a pinch of cinnamon in Salem's face. He doesn't flinch. Then it dawns on her like dragon scales falling from her eyes.
Tshajbukoshka: Oh. I didn't plug in the headphones. I just wanted to play for myself.
Salem: I must have misheard. PLAY? With what? With my sense of hearing? Sense of smell? Or rather with my LIFE and that of the entire neighborhood?! EVERYONE within a radius... of twenty meters should have heard this.
Tshajbukoshka hands him a bouquet of lily of the valley that she had actually picked for someone else: Here, look. Now get a grip! Please.
Salem raises his implied fluffy eyebrows: Exactly. Cinnamon and artificial flowers. How romantically they go together, I want to make a soup out of it - and accidentally shove you onto the hot stove, considering Merlin's probably distant masculinity. What has gotten into you? Do you mean that seriously?! After all this time?
Tshajbukoshka: Always.
Even as she says this, she plugs the jack of the cable into the designated socket and wiggles her fingers, stretching them, only to place them back on the piano. The brilliantly white, whiter than skin, and the silvery shimmering hairline of the gentleman in black-green, who appears before her inner eye and simultaneously evokes both sorrow and joy in her, a feeling of gratitude that she should have gotten used to over the last few years. And yet she never did. She closes her eyes and continues to play.
Should all of this be true or is it only happening in her head?
Salem: Of course, it's only happening in your head, Tshajbu. But why should that mean it isn't real?
As the silky black cat contorts his face in exaggerated pain, he jumps from the white and black keys and into his beloved darkness, which he is all too happy to be engulfed by.
Tshajbukoshka feels the emerging darkness, feels it above her. A few tears silently wander down her face, she does not wipe them away. Because to play the melody, she doesn't need her eyes, she needs her ears - and her heart.
Suddenly, many small lights appear, small but so numerous that they dispel the dark mark above her head.
And with each gentle press on the keys, each tone of the ensemble, a bit of happiness returns there, like a Christmas dessert effortlessly still finding its way into a stomach that should actually be full by now.
-------------------------------
How should I summarize it, how should I express it?
Salem hates the gentleman here. Perhaps out of jealousy.
Salem: Maybe I also hate the indecision, the confusion, the volume, the elegance of a digital piano that can never compete with the virtuosity of quality ingredients and smells worse than three months of plum pudding stored in a coat pocket compared to MY favorites.
Tshajbukoshka: Fool! Jiggly fat! Knickknacks! Squeak!
Salem: Yes, that's one way to put it. Please keep this here, in your so-called 'house,' my personal chamber of horrors. I can't think of a more fitting occasion for this.
Tshajbukoshka: plays on with a smile on her face for a long time, her discipline at least today unmatched.
-------------------------------
For reasons of convenience and readability, invisible quotation marks indicate that not all words and expressions used are my own.
Deeply connected thanks for the inspiration goes out to J.K. Rowling and the person who invented YouTube tutorials - especially this one today: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQnQCqyvo6Y
Translated · Show original
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Salem: She PUSHED me! I couldn't even land on my paws! Tonight, I'm going to stomp on the keys and show her what it's like when a talentless pseudo-virtuoso forgets to plug in the headphones.