I wish I had more time. More hours in a day. There’s so much I’d like to do, so little time. I have to work, I love to sleep –these two require a lot of my time.
I used to play the piano a lot when I was younger, but nowadays it’s a rare thing for me to do. My time is spent –besides work, everyday life and sleep- in writing, taking pictures, reading and socializing. Some blogging, too. One day I sat by the piano and started to play, and I remembered the joy playing used to bring to me.
Well, to hear the tunes I managed to get out of the piano was not a joy; my fingers are stiff, my skills rusty, but nevertheless, I had a sensation similar to the one a long time ago.
I grabbed also the guitar in my enthusiasm, the 12-string. Oh no. Far too difficult, so I took the six-string beauty in my lap and tried to lure some blues out of her.
It was quite awful, and now my fingertips are sore.
I must practise. I really have to. Maybe it means less writing, less picture making. Less blogging.
I believe it’s worth it.