A piano,
a calm, stiff structure. So bold yet peaceful. The mere power of it being held by such a gentle figure.
The keys, black and white, finely tuned, in a array of symphony. Notes at your fingertips.
Such a beautiful instrument.
An instrument that plays tunes of joy, harmonies of peace, and compositions of melancholy.
The notes are an endless chance of creativity, an endless expression of the mind.
Even the dust collected on the piano is beautiful.
Even after years of it being neglected, it's notes still sound so graceful.
This piano is still just as a doorway to the unknown as before such neglect.
This unknown is somehow so comforting.
It's an unknown that you can be at ease with, an unknown that feels like home despite having never passed the threshold of the door.
It's so beautiful.
An unknown to hope for, to live for. An unknown that shows what lies under the flesh, under the muscle and pulsating life.
A piano.
A doorway into the soul.