Mosaic Of Air

For two years I attended high school in the Middle East

, and was able to vacation through much of Europe. My family and I spent a week in Italy for one vacation, riding a train, and making many stops. I always wanted to take more time relaxing, but was usually forced to keep up with the fast tourist pace of my parents. One such moment stands out in my mind above all others.

We had arrived in Pisa early afternoon, and I was cranky and depressed about a girl I was dating at the time. I spent the whole trip beating myself up for decisions that I made, and this day was no different. My feet hurt. My eyes burned. I was consumed in adolescent emotional turmoil and depression. I was at one of my lowest points ever.

And then I heard it MUSIC. A classical guitar being strummed in the distance. All other noises were muted ever so slightly, and my first reaction was to go go to the music. My parents stopped me Dont you want to go to Leaning Tower? No, this is what I have to do.

When I got close enough to see the source of the music, I was surprised to see it was a boy about my age. Judging by his skill, he mustve played his entire life. I admired his fluency from a distance at first, and just listened with my eyes closed letting it all sink in. The song was dark and foreboding, sad and deep. I couldnt keep from moving to his tune.

I became aware of him watching me and I almost left, before he motioned for me to come over. As soon as I sat down next to him, he was handing me a flask of vodka, and introducing himself. We quickly realized that we couldnt understand each other at all, except when he said play and handed me the guitar. I tried my best to explain that I wasnt a skilled player, and that I had only written one song, and that I didnt want to embarrass myself. I knew he didnt understand. He just said play.

So I played one of the two songs I knew how to play The song I had written only weeks before. And I cried, and I sang with more emotion than I ever had before. When I was done with my song, and had opened my eyes, I saw that the boy had been crying also.

As I handed him his guitar, he put his hand on my arm and we made eye contact. In that moment, I understood, for the first time, that some things are capable of transcending past language barriers and words. I felt that he understood something about me that was deeper than any conversation that I could have shared with him. I saw passion in his eyes. I saw understanding.

This was the day that I truly found the universal language that lived inside of me already -

Music, the Mosaic of Air.

by: Jonathan Gentry

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