184. How you play Tchaikovsky
"It was storming, rivulets of rain streaming down the window. When I finished, I turned to face him. He looked far away, as though while I played he'd gone on a tour of the world and was staring at a sight he didn't want to know existed.
'Yes,' he said after a paus. 'That's how you play Tchaikovsky. Your pedaling isn't quite there yet, but the rest of it -- the tone and the feeling -- is all there.'
We stayed together, held by the storm, talking softly about nothing."
Sent to Brian. From the It's Only a Book project in which I'm deconstructing my 2003 book, Grace: A Memoir, and turning it into art.