I am Chopin. Preparing to strike the G in Chopin’s Sonata No. 3, I let myself melt and mold into the greatest performer of this piece–Chopin himself. Led through a maze of notes and rhythms, I challenge my mind to track every movement I make. With the multiple melodic lines running beneath the ink stained paper, music flows through my fingertips, transforming a boisterous girl into a sensitive, mellow lady.

I am Prokofiev. Stepping back from Chopin, I throw myself into the world of Prokofiev. He is a man of strength and authority and so I must be, too. A female pianist can only exert so much force before her muscles stress out and catapult the performance to an unfortunate end. However, when I become Prokofiev, my power is unbounded. Like a lion living inside, I have the energy to roar through an entire concert and still have enough vigor for an encore.

Minim commodo non ex consectetur consectetur.