His hands are dancing on the piano like no one did before, the music out of it are bouncing in the air. There were moments that I wanted to dance with the music, so powerful, so embracing, the sounds are so beautiful as if they are from heaven; there were moments that i wanted to stand up as if sitting is not in harmony with the living music. Now, in Alexander Nikolaievitch Skriabin's（Poeme "Vers la flamme"），Op.72（1914), Sokolov stopped at the very climax and stood up at the same speed as the music and the whole audience rose to their feet. How bravo! How incredible! The applauses got more and more intensive. After he thanked the audience 3 times, he finally sat down, and sth. quiet was played, as quiet as the night and we just forgot that 1 second ago, we were in bright daylight with fire and energy. Now it is night filled with chilly air and tranquility. Suddenly, my tears ran down and left on my face a warm trail, they were tears of respect for such a perfectionist for beauty; they were tears of warmness contaged by the love of the artist; they were tears of sadness leaked by the uproaring music. I couldnt believe my ears what I heard, the sound was simply too complex, too beautiful, too multi-dimentional to be true.
I am starting to stutter now, I know, I want to say more about why I love his performance so much and say it more exactly, but somehow I cannot, just as Sokolov put it, "if I could tell you why I love piano so much, then I must be loving it not very much."
There is one thing I can tell though, that is--for days to come in the future, I will not skip my daily piano practice no matter what.
So you can see now that me and my green gang leader were sitting for an afternoon Macchiato near the green cactus。。。
