“Ok, remember the story about the girls and the music? When Christie came outside… and we began to talk about why I was inconsolably crying about the beauty of this duet…

I asked her this, while overcome and weeping: “That piece you were playing was absolutely amazing. I cannot imagine ever being able to play like that, or read music, or understand what you were doing… or even make music at the piano.” And she was silent for a moment.

And then I said: ‘Surely you have made songs, compositions… yourself, yes?”

And she said : “No.” And I was absolutely staggered, in part because that was most of what I had done with the guitar… and asked her: “Wait, perhaps I misunderstood, you »have created music of your own, haven’t you? Or just made up something while at the piano?”

And she said “No, I only ever play the music written by others.” And I still could not believe her, and pressed her to admit she had made her own music.

But, alas — it was true, this person who… compared to me, was a musical prodigy… had only ever… made the music… written by other people.

And never once her own, in her entire lifetime!”

— and then, and only then, did I begin to understand…