The nail of my right index finger is slightly seperated from its nail bed. It's nothing serious but rather annoying. That is just one of the occupational hazards of opening can after can of beer and minerals during a drink cart service. That, and being encapsulated in an aluminium body of very dry air, recycled burps, farts and whatever gas our human bodies excrete.

It stung when I removed my red nail polish. When I was a classical piece on the piano and I came to the part where I have to thrill the demi-semi-quaver notes, it hurts like hell. I played until my finger didn't hurt anymore. Thus, it was one of the rare evenings at home that I spent tickling the ivories and singing to my favourite songs in my computer.

It is one of those simple things that brings about such quiet joy. I have forgotten how I felt when I played my first song on the piano.

Thinking back, I have always been an expressive person. I can share my thoughts by using words and penning them down, and find words for feelings that are hard to describe through speech. And now I realize, that I am learning to express myself better through music.

Music sounds so beautiful when it is played with feelings... I am glad I got in touch with it again...

:)