Play!

Durig this ultra short night, I had too many stuff to think of. One and the most significative , putting aside the endless dance between spiky roses that the woman I love and I have this days, was the fact that some days ago I gave my oboe for sell in ebay. When i got to the person who will sell it for me he just open the box and like a kid start to arm it to play like a little toy. Once he finished with his dillemas of where goes what he just pointed to me with it and said „play!“. In that moment i felt like if he just took the oboe and stab me with it in the chest. Took me some seconds to compose and politely refuse the idea. With some really basic instructions he after soaking the reed decided to make really funny noises with it and constantly repeat „play“. In that moment I felt that some part of my life was ending and what I was looking was the reflexion of a life I once have and that will never comeback. With a nostalgic smile, I just sat there and „enjoy“ the noises this guy was trying to make with the instrument. Was pretty funny later on, when she asked why I was selling really cheap... i think that maybe deep inside he just understood that i want some money for it, but the truth is that I just want to get rid of it.
Why i start to play oboe in the first instance? Because was fun? Mmmm because everyone said that the onlyone who can play such a complicated instrument in that time was me? Or because the instrument have some magic? Well the answer is simple after all this years, because i wrote a song i wanted to play in that instrument, a song for 2 that is not longer exist. I can remember the first time i got the instrument in my hands, was like when harry potter received his magic wand in the first movie. Everything becomes magical and the time stop, 14 years later I just see it as a nostalgic memory of my past that doesn't have any inspiration. For that I decided to leave it and not play it again. As Dinno Nugget tolds me once after a concert, „no matter how much technique, or natural talent a musician have, if the music is not connected with the soul and inspiration of the player. The sound of the instrument he is playing will be rough and dull as the sound of the traffic“. I think the is the only person in the world who supported and understand me after all this times. However I can forget his sad expresion when he saw me the last year in the Panama Jazz Festival that was as cold and sad as if he would lost a close relative.
With this words I'm not saying that I lost music once at all. The fact is that the time I would be able to play an instrumment again will be really far away for the moment and is something i don't want to think of... maybe it might come back as spontaneous as when I played for the first time.

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