None of this matters to Kenan anymore. He stares at the cellist, and feels himself relax as the music seeps into him. He watches as the cellist’s hair smoothes itself out, his beard disappears. A dirty tuxedo becomes clean, shoes polished bright as mirrors. Kenan hasn’t heard the cellist’s tune before, but he knows it anyway, its notes familiar and full of pride, a young boy in a new coat holding his father’s hand as he walks down a winter street.
Transforming music
Albinonis Adagio
