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A man plays a violin in a warm, dimly lit room with sheet music on a wooden desk.

A man plays a violin in a warm, dimly lit room with sheet music on a wooden desk.

Playing the violin is like trying to handle a sensitive baby made of wood. Make one wrong move, and it starts screeching its horrid hymn. Make a singular slip-up, And the baby has a permanent dent in its head. As it grows up, You grow better and better at parenting this “baby”. You know you can grow more. But small mistakes still haunts you. Small mistakes taunt and dance around your head. As you get nearer and nearer to perfection, It becomes your pride. Suddenly the mistakes that used to taunt you and haunt you Start waltzing and swaying. Mehr sehen