I run my hand over the case. Its smooth, just like yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. Once my hands find their way inside, they decide to walk all over the instrument stopping at every key and admiring every hole. I pick it up. And I play. I play until I’m in tune. Then I play until a bruise sits on top of my thumb. I play until my lungs give up and threaten to take me if I don't stop for air. I play until  whatever thing that's been bothering me runs out of through my eyes, walks down my cheek, and tickles my lips. I play until I can feel myself leave. Until I’m completely gone, because this is a passion that helps me escape. Every piece different with the same honesty, nowhere i've been before, but everytime beautiful. The music my destination and the instrument my transportation.