She plays the violin with a skill and grace that virtuosos around the world would envy. Her fingers glide across the strings as the bow dances across their surfaces. She has never had an equal, and she never will.
The music fills the air. It is a song long forgotten, written by a person whose name has been lost and whose race has been forgotten. The notes call out to all that hear them, and they draw the listener in.
Music requires a soul to create art, and she does not have one. No matter. She’ll simply use yours.
