The Cellist This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

August 2, 2010
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I pick up the bow, which now seems like an extension of my ebony arm. As my fingers touch the mahogany, I hear one constant note rushing through the small studio that I call home. The sound is a choir singing in unison, the same beautiful note: G major. My soul yearns to hear more, so I pick up the most exquisite instrument in the world: my cello.
As my thin fingers wrap around the elegant neck, light wisps of violet and maroon escape from them. They swirl around each other, appearing completely different, but not combatant. The violet swirls around the maroon, and the maroon dances through the violet as though they were two lovers dancing. The sight makes my heart swoon.

I start to play, my bow resting on the taut strings for only a moment to watch a powdered hot pink mesh with the violet and maroon eminating from my fingers tips. They form a soft vibrato of C minor. I can feel the vibrations deep in my feet and I let it take control of me.
As if like a puppet being manipulated by strings attached to my limbs, I start to play in pianissimo, Johann Sebastian Bach's Air on the G string- midi file.
First note: C, second string, four fingers, nine beats. I play as instructed by the score that is etched so clearly in my mind. The sound creates a dominent red that surrounds and engulfs me. I cannot help but press harder so that the color and I become one entity. It drowns out the violet- maroon- hot pink melange and swells into a tidal wave of passion. I change note unwillingly, wanting to keep the furious red. Wanting to be able to see what I feel. But, as I change to the next note, a sweet harmonious blue appears and I know that my resistance was not futile. The blue that swallows and calms the red is what I truely feel inside.

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