Trivial

And once again the curtains are drawn back and the windows opened to the breeze that can filter into the room. It disturbs the dust motes and sends them aswirl in eddies about the room.

They initially seem static with the closed being of the doors but as the freedom is let loose, her fingers fly across the ivory.

It is once again as before. Things seem beautiful, real. It is tangible. It is musical.