|Agonia.Net | Policy | Mission||Contact | Participate|
|Article Communities Contest Essay Multimedia Personals Poetry Press Prose _QUOTE Screenplay Special|
￭ The only thing
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
2012-05-17 | |
I planned to pay a visit to the museum of technology, located near a park entrance among century-old trees.
I thought that it would be nice to draw some parallels between technics and nature, then leave the place in good spirits.
I went past the museum many times but never visited it, always saying â€śmaybe some other timeâ€ť.
That day I was determined to get there and before long I was behind the wheel of my car driving toward the old part of the town where the park and the museum were located.
It didnâ€™t take too much time to get there and I parked my car a little further to take a little walk and enjoy the mild autumn weather.
In the street, two workers from a moving company carrying a small piano, a kind of spinet, were trying to squeeze it through the small entrance of an old villa.
They were afraid not to damage the porch and were cursing the piano in loud voices.
I decided to lend a helping hand to the art in its war with the moving company and the two poor workers welcomed me.
An hour later we were in front of the ownerâ€™s apartment after having negotiated the narrow entrance and the steep staircase.
I was full of dust, most like the staircase windows and wanted to bid farewell to my colleagues in pain when the door opened.
The owner served us a tea and said that his daughter would like to play a song to thank us for our efforts. She was playing well and time flew without noticing.
I was looking through the roomâ€™s window at the nearby park whilst listening to the notes of the piano. That day maybe the gods of the technology were sleeping inside the borrows of the old trees and on the dark mirror of the lake leaves carrying the dead soul of technics were floating like ceremonial pyres. By the time the host accompanied us to the door, the museum of technology had closed.
I slowly got into my car to go home then I jumped out, went upstairs in a hurry and knocked at the door of the pianoâ€™s owner. He opened the door and much to his surprise , he saw me again in front of him.
-Would you be so kind to explain me how the piano works? I asked him.
I drove home quietly that night. As for the museum of technology, I will visit it some other day.
|Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests.|