I can neither play a piano nor enjoy its music appreciably,but I like it.When I am alone,looking at the alternating black and white keys of a piano,my thought seems to flow with the changing pattern of the color.It enables me to think,leaving behind all the worries that have been fetters all along.
In fact,the 88 keys on a piano are analogous to the life of a person.With them,you can express your dreams,your emotion and your thoughts,in a way that shines softly like the moonlight that seeps in through the glass window and sprays on your face,illuminating everything.Life,in that way,is like a piano composition.That is why I would like to be a pianist.Rightfully,it may be postulated that the genuine reason behind is the attraction formed by the elegance,restrained disposition,and profundity exemplified by many pianists,as well as the seemingly boundless realm for creativity that a pianist enjoys.Postulations they are,and let them remain so.To me,I simply like the piano; just like it; just want to play it,as if I am playing and expressing myself.