I have this memory from my childhood. The kind of indelible,¬†informative memory that is part of the toolbox we aren’t even aware we are filling when we are young. I see myself, barefoot and play-worn on the front porch. Below me, over the side brick lattice wall, facing the neighbor’s house, is my brother. Read the rest of this entry »

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An Interview

April 22, 2010

I was listening to an interview with a pianist who was talking about the genius of Chopin’s creative process: Read the rest of this entry »