I remember that day like it just happened. If I were to mention one memory that sustains me when I doubt in the existence of what we all call love I would choose this one. I could only sit by the window back then and watch him play. I couldn't move, nor speak. There was no reason to speak. If there was anything dignified enough to break the silence it was his playing. Raindrops kept hitting the window, adding this unique vibe to everything that was happening. I closed my eyes to see him even better and let the music surround me. Much as he was talented, he was most of all gentle. In every move he made with his fingers across the keyboard, you could feel such strength and years of practice, which were so cleverly and delicately hidden behind his subtlety. I was mesmerized. In a way I wished that moment would never finish, knowing at the same time that its transience was what made it beautiful. It was the reason I already knew back then I would never forget about him. He wasn't magical. He was magic. Now that I think about that unusually warm December evening, I can tell you that it changed me. I can't explain how, or which part of me he changed but he did. And sometimes when I close my eyes, I still smile.. Hearing those sounds, hearing the music of my inspiration in my head. And such moments are why I will never forget about him, just because of the way he was able to affect me without saying anything, but simply doing what he loved…