Flor d’Luna

It’s a lazy Sunday in the tropical island. Pleasant breeze blows through the big doors and windows of the fairly big house. It’s hard to come by these kind of structures, you think as you step in. A flight of stairs lead up, but you don’t want to take them. Stairs are always forbidding in someone else’s house. A faint smell of cigarettes hangs in the air, still resisting the blowing breeze. A beautifully crafted Taylor rests on the stand, like a haughty woman who won’t let just anyone touch her. So you stay a respectable distance from the masterpiece and admire while your friend comes in, saying, ‘Want to try it? It sounds beautiful’. You decline politely and take out the $300 Yamaha and sit down to practice what you were taught the previous week. ‘Hey , ever listen to this piece?’ he asks as he plays this song. Mesmerising.