D7

The concert hall fills with the most eloquent sounds of a grand piano. The audience is mesmerized, except for one. “There’s something wrong with the music… there… and there. Every now and then there’s something wrong… there’s a flaw. But it can’t be, this is the best pianist in the world. People like him don’t make mistakes… there it is again. One of the piano keys is flat.” After the concert the critic runs backstage waving his VIP pass at all the burly looking men standing around.


“Why didn’t you check your piano?”

“I did check it.
Methodically.”

“How did you miss the flat D7?”

“I didn’t miss it...

...I made it flat.”

“My piano is very rare, yet there are thousands of keys that sound indistinctly like mine. Not D7. It’s unique. You hear it’s flat, I hear it’s alive. What you see as flaw, I see as perfection. Can you be perfect if you are like thousands of others? Not in my world. I search for uniqueness in my music, if I don’t find any, I create them. You might see them as flaws, but I wouldn’t play if they weren’t there. Each time I play D7, I know life make sense. I don’t understand how life works, or why, but I know it does. Between all the flawless notes, there was a flat one, yet did people not applaud?”

Some of my flaws make me imperfect... some make me unique.

What about yours?