While killing time at old HQ before my train home, I remember a conversation with a pianist who became a coder.
“I actually applied to music school,” she had told me. “But after I put my applications in the mail, my parents took them out of the mailbox and ripped them up. So I thought I never got into music school because I didn’t hear back from any of them.”
“That’s horrible,” I said. We are probably cousins, I wanted to say.
“So I majored in C.S. instead.”
“Do you still play?” I asked.
“Yeah, I try to.”
“What’s your go-to piece? I mean, if there were a piano in front of you right now, what would you play?”
“Chopin Polonaise!” Just saying the title made her happy.
At old HQ, a coffee and a slice of walnut cake now costs $2.60 (when I was in here last, it was $2.35). I sit at the table and I listen to Horowitz play Chopin through my tinny headphones — I had forgotten how it starts.
And I don’t remember how it ends, either.