Just a moment ago I was playing the piano and I remembered something. Piano has been an instrument that has followed me throughout my life. When my mother first held me after I was born she looked at my fingers and said, "Camille has the long fingers of a pianist". My mother was an opera singer when we lived in Montreal and sometimes I would sit in the room during one of her rehearsals and watch. I remember seeing the piano keys being pressed down and being fascinated by it. I didn't understand where the bottom half of the key would go whenever the key would be pressed. I would then go up to the piano and press the notes down myself causing a cacophonous sound to erupt from the piano. My next memory of the piano was when I was a little bit older I noticed that there were letters at very top of the keys under the velvet lining that prevented the keys from banging the wood. Once again I was fascinated by the prospect that I couldn't always see them since they were always covered by the velvet. I would spend hours pressing keys playing peekaboo with myself. I don't know why it was so fascinating to me. Those secret letters were a treasure to me. I was reminded of them today when played piano because after all these years they still appear and disappear when my figures dance along the keys. It still feels like a little secret that my piano and I share.

The Letters at the end of the keys. They are all in the wrong place if they were meant to show what the notes are but that doesn't make me love them less.

The pressing down of the keys that fascinated my toddler self.