The contrasting black and white on the masterpiece before me reorients my mind into the mode of a whole other language; a language not spoken, but sung.

As my bow slowly descends into position I feel a rush of eagerness and concentration flow from my conscious,  spilling into my veins and drenching my organs.

One
Two
Three
Four;

I am off in a distant place; a destination known only to those who believe in the music; are the song.

My pulse quickens as the end draws near, arms rising and falling,  fingers dancing upon the strings. As the notes gain tempo and decibels increase a ****** is achieved:

The air becomes silent with the breath of music and it is finished.

The bell rings;  leaving me still craving,  yet things are gathered and the physical body moves to the next class,  as if I never left my seat.