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A Chinese proverb / Favorite place - admission essay to boarding school [9]
Piano Essay for Boarding school final draftEvery time I visit, I am overtaken with admiration of the expansive landscape. The auburn canyon is home to hundreds of corrugated vines that stretch from wall to wall. The off-white valley floor is evenly lined with peaks of gleaming obsidian, and years of tireless weathering have only given the site more character. Though I have ventured to this place many times, each experience is as novel as the first. What is this mysterious wonder of the world, you may ask? My 1918 Baldwin Monarch Baby Grand piano.
This network of keys, hammers, and strings is capable of producing a broad spectrum of sounds. The higher register, used mainly for ornamentation, emits trickle-like sounds when touched. The lower notes, conversely, boom thunderously. The notes in between, the middle register, is where most playing is done; the full, warm timbre makes for enticing melodies. These diverse elements contribute to the versatility of the piano. However, this instrument is more than just a mechanism for sound production.
The piano serves as a personal therapist. With the familiar creak of the aged mahogany bench, we begin a conversation. Everything that has been on my mind-- frustration, sadness, or excitement-- is channeled through my fingertips, and onto the keys. Without delay, the soundboard articulates a sympathetic response. No matter how hard I beat the keys, they rise back up, willing to continue the dialogue. In this way, the piano is the ultimate tool for coping.
I once suffered a loss of a childhood friend. For days after the death, overwhelming depression and despair confined me to my bed. In an attempt to avert my focus from this tragedy, I retreated to the piano. Without restraint, my bottled emotions poured through me and onto the instrument. My fingers mercilessly pounded the ivory into the instrument's shell until my arms were shaking from fatigue. The strings shrieked back at me, emulating my aggravation. However, as my nerves calmed, the dissonant music softened into a cohesive, therapeutic soundscape. As I composed myself, I was also composing music. Though the pain of the loss has never subsided, it was certainly eased when I brought it to the piano.
After each exchange, the piano grows closer to my heart. It is a tool for self discovery, an outlet for creativity, and the one place that I truly feel at home.
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