During high school music was one of the main things in my life.
Choir, solo, folkband, other band.
My dad was proud. He was a conductor and singer and he took me to his choir when I was 4.
He didn't witness much of what happened at university.
A few friends of highschool were still 'in music'.
Wherever there was a piano, one of the friends turned up and started playing.
Often it was at the end of a huge university party in the cellar of the building where I was studying.
I remember so many times starting to hum along, to the music getting louder and louder.
We gave our own concert for those who were still there, for a few beers, something to eat, and a smile.
At home we composed, and often I was the one writing the text. Sometimes with my best friend, sometimes alone. We were the singers...
So when I saw the photo of one of the famous jazz musicians I was reminded of his music.
It resulted in 2 poems.
The pianist (a reaction to the photo)
and