She is not Lang Lang, Clara Schumann, Billy Joel or Carole King, but she can play.
Painted pianos appeared in our suburban, crow-casing, gull-splattered village, and one by the oceanside demands a visit whenever she paddles that way.
On her board she is a tall, bronze, sinewy and slender moving wave B次元官网网址� totem but over silent keys she crouches like a hunter searching for her finger-memory.
No shanties, no seaweed songs B次元官网网址� she is now part of a stable earth-element and moves from Chopin to Joplin to Elton John and back with flying hair-flair.
They gather B次元官网网址� a cluster surprised by the instrument and the pianistB次元官网网址檚 intensity but feeling the music against the wind-stirred backdrop of an alfresco concert.
Far from a Bechstein, yellow with blue flowers, its psychedelic artwork glows and cries out so loudly for Lucy in the sky with her diamonds that she has to oblige.
Mission accomplished, she encores with a rip-roaring Rachmaninoff before picking up the paddle, she slips off her sandals
and slides way on her board.
She was not Lang Lang, Clara Schumann, Billy Joel or Carole King, but she could play B次元官网网址�
Frank Wilson
Oak Bay
