All I see now when I play piano in my mind as I fall asleep are faults. One of my hands is weak, not strong enough, not quick enough and it drives me half crazy. The remaining half is made up by a single look at my spinet surrounded by piles and piles of music, unfinished and forgotten. I loved each one and then went into a fit and abandoned all of them. I know I am missing the feeling and the heart of it all now but I can't get it back, going from day to day now with this ceaseless perfectionism. I am not good enough. This is the most discouraging feeling in the world, to know I have no teacher and cannot lead myself. But I will not give up. I will never give up and I will be more than I am. Everyone would like to know where I am going and the question now makes me want to weep; still my answer is the same as it has always been - What do you want to do, Christina?
I don't know, Sir, only that it has to do with the Piano.
