Op. 31, No. 3

Someone who played Chopin remembered me today as someone who played Beethoven. In the sense, I hope, of the heroine of, oh, you know, that Helena Bonham Carter/Daniel Day Lewis movie of that English novel--come on, brain--yes--A "A Room with a View." A passionate young woman, with unruly hair, physically expressive at the piano. Sitting down to play the opening measures of a sonata with fury and intensity, then joining the composer’s passion with her own and rushing on to deeper more nuanced emotion. Was I a girl like that? Or just as someone who nailed Ludwig’s notes one day in a performance where things just came together? I going for the romance, the Romantic, in my soul.