The pianist approaches the piano. It is silent and attentive, standing in the middle of the otherwise empty room. Now the pianist is right in front of it, facing it. She sits down on the piano stool and it responds to her weight with a creak. She lifts the fall board and reveals the keys, black and white. Sensually the pianist places her hands on the keys, feeling them with her fingertips. She waits. She pushes down the pedal without playing a note and a whooshing sound escapes the piano. It breathes. And then they play.

Sonata KV. 310; W.A. Mozart

I.Allegro maestoso

The pianist moves along the keys with short but powerful movements. The piano settles into a steady gallop. The pianist’s fingers move quicker and quicker over the keys. The music reaches a climax. The tension grows. And then; a pause. The pianist as well as the piano hold their breaths until they resume again.

The music refrains and this time, the piano strides along with its player. Long and heavy notes. A trot. The sound diminishes until it fully subsides with the next decrescendo.

After the short silence the pianist pushes down the keys with great strength and her fingers race over the keys. The piano is going wild, getting faster and faster. The pianist’s heart beats quicker and stronger. So do the piano’s hammers beat against the chords. She is starting to feel as though the piano was eluding her, to fast for her to catch up. She refrains, taking it by the rains, forcing it to calm down, and it does eventually.

Then the music becomes quieter. So do the pianist and her piano. A staccato. Then the two of them twirl around each other in a dance. Moving elegantly and intricately. A pirouette.

The transition between the slow and dreamy dance and the proud and pompous notes that follow is sudden. The piano boasts. Look at me, with every note.

The pianist’s pulse quickens again. This time it is not because of the music. The part that would follow is one that she has never succeeded in playing correctly before. No matter how much she practiced. She has never been able to tame her piano at that particular point. It would grow too wild and would not respond to her, obey her. This time is no exception. Her grip on the piano and the music loosens and she stops abruptly. Again the same mistake. Frustration boils inside her. She has to vent, or else she feels she will explode. Her hands slam onto the keys three times. Three times the piano yells a cacophony back at her.

The pianist thinks: What a laborious task to tame a piano.