which seems easier to write. And again….
I remember my first music lessons. My mother had decided on the guitar. Because it was the perfect instrument for going for a walk. But my little fingers suffered. I wanted to play the piano. I had Chopin’s fingers… but not the talent. Places were hard to come by. I started solfeggio, only to give up later. I wasn’t going to be a musician. Even if I was brought up with a musical ear.
A few weeks ago, I came across this piece of acoustic guitar
I would have liked to have played it that way in retrospect. But I didn’t have the maturity. Nostalgia. The same acoustic guitar of Paris Texas. Or Forbidden Games. And then you left. Nice tribute I wanted to pay you. You’re linked in my memory to these few notes.
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