Chopin Dessert

Walking into the Music Hall was like stepping into a Napoleon, but instead of the rich layers of cream and pastry the building layered dessert of gold and wood. Everything gleamed. We stood and attempted to digest it all. Carved women looking eternally voluptuous held up the balconies. In the center of the stage, a magnificent black piano demanded our attention. The audience consisted of heavy fur coats and pearls. An older generation was sitting elegantly in the seats, while the young ones who only had 6 Euros to spare were standing in the back. It was warm and close in the room, a perfect medium for Chopin. I drifted as the music began. I thought about the Count of Monte Cristo, how he must have looked in a room not to different from this. I thought about the dresses and the highly-styled hair the women used to have. A loud note would call me back to the concert. But then the music would make me think about people, emotions, places, and I would be off again. Fans circulated slowly, hung carefully from painted ceilings, as if they were stirring honey. Mixing the shimmering gold and people’s thoughts.