Giving up the art
Author: Ella

Chapter 10
her violin collection

cyrilla's house was just like mine. no lights were on in the afternoon as the sunlight lit the house casting many shadows around the furniture. i followed her to her room and found her beautiful violin collection. in a simple glass case standing at the side of her room, violins ranging of all sizes were leaning against a violin stand in the case. the smallest was almost the size of an infant. i stood in front of the case and marvelled at her collection.

"all your violins seem new," i remarked.

she opened the glass case carefully and lifted the smallest one out. "they are given a new coat of polish every year. and i take great care when handling them."

"that one is really small," i laughed as she pretended to play it.

"this was my very first violin. i got it on my third birthday. i was disappointed when i got it for a present. i still remember i wanted toys," cyrilla sighed.

i remember vaguely that i was given a doll on my third birthday. i loved the doll at that time but i would rather have a violin now. a beautiful violin as small as cyrilla's.

she placed the violin back  and i shifted my gaze to the shelves of books in her room. on the lowest shelf were her school books. she only had a few of them and a few assessment books. however, the shelf right above it was at eye level, and it was filled with numerous thinner books. even the thicker ones did not have names on their backbones. curious, i randomly located a blue one and pulled it out. it was a song book.

"woah! you have so many violin books!' i gasped as i pulled out a few more and flipped through them.

"haha. more than school books," she smiled. "shows you how unimportant my education is.

i wonder back to my own room. my shelves were filled with school books. some even spilled over onto the floor. i had a shelf just like hers but i was not filled with music books, but countless math assessment books. was math more important than all my subjects? her comment made me wonder. cyrilla was a girl of the violin. her room spoke that much of her. and mine. it said that i was an ordinary girl-nothing more.


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