Clearly that it would touch. What plus an artist it could appreciates, that not a sedenta auditorium for its art? It started with the nineth symphony of Beethoven. Tan nan nan nan nan nam, panan nan nan nan, pan, nan, nan, nan nan A sadness covered to it entire in the measure where that music inebriava it to it soul. It was pure feeling dedilhar of the pianista. the feeling was increasing, magnificent, concrete. Impossible to contain the proper tears, while it was imagined in a beautiful dancer valsando in one petty cash of musics.

Of closed eyes, the pianista one only could be felt as being he himself music, entering through the pores of the woman without if giving account of this. It, that height, was in settles. The time had stopped. The universe was alone of it and that sound that has left a piano. To the end of the symphony, an individual applause, one to dry of tears, a sadness-joy. A formal paradox.

Before it arose itself and could say farewell itself, the professor asked for that it it heard to touch Mozart. I am with will to touch Mozart, said it livening up itself. It was taken by soft waves of joy. She continued seated with a candy smile. Still in she settles, felt to relax all its muscles. She took off the sandals to saborear comfortably that masterpiece still more. Sonata of Mozart. A new vibration. A uncontrollable joy was spilled in gushes out and it was drowning almost it. It was not contained. While the closed professor, concentrate, eyes, developed the partition, it unbuttoned its blouse. He arose himself. How force! Each note, each arrangement How to be able! The professor was the proper sonata, involved that it and it then danced with it, in returns for all the room. Nothing of this he could be perceived by the pianista in its almost medinica performance. The woman turned and circled, smiling, without any type of control on same itself. But she allowed herself to feel. Mozart, ah Mozart Wise person who now was gotten passionate by the genius composer. It was to the window and it showed the seios to the passer-bys in an almost infantile joy, if it was not the sensual character of that gesture. It came back to the center of the room. It gave to returns and returns with the skirt raised for the wind. It freed the hair, before carefully organized in a held coke. But that music continued taking its judgment. to free the hair, to open the buttons, to take off the sandals, to raise the skirt god was not enough. It took off those mooring cables total. She could not have clothes, the mooring cables, inside of a so full celestial space of joy. It was an angel and angels walked undressed. It felt its wing, flied, went to the window, waved, smiles the pianista, concentrate, nothing perceived. Until, finally, the final note. The world comes back to the normal one. Real life. It finishes, still with closed eyes, of the one has taken sigh. When turning over for that lady, he is surpreen