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We met in a small music shop in southern Virginia, some years ago.
The woodgrain of that violin was not finished to a lustrous sheen, but more to an appearance far beyond its years. We had that in common.
Overwhelmed by its rustic appeal to the eye, we went home together. That purchase, at the time, was much more a luxury than necessity.
Not being a musician, our first session was truly a revelation. What had I done? When bow first met strings absolute horror was revealed. That beautiful chunk of wood had no more music within it than its buyer had.
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