I look down and all I see is black and white.

The polished black-and-white keys of the piano, mirroring the black-and-whiteness of the rules of music theory…

Who would have thought that such rigidity and lack of colour could be used to paint so many vivid, graceful pictures with only a handful of notes?

To look at the instrument itself, you wouldn’t believe it could bring tears to your eyes…

How fitting it is that we should call certain pianos “grand!” One could go as far as calling them formidable.

And yet, I can’t seem to stop coming back day after day, week after week. At times, I plunge right into playing and feel like a person giving their best friend a bear hug.

A smile forms on my face as I play the first chord of my favourite composition.

My monochromia is incurable.

2 thoughts on “Monochromia

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