The sound of pure joy fills the air. Suddenly, it stops at a squeak, and the clarinetist exhales in frustration.  She stops to push a lock of blond hair out of her face, and her glasses up her nose. Concentration contorts her pretty face as she goes back to reread the phrase. A quick nod of understanding and she begins her song again. The joyous piece is one of her favorites, and you can almost see her smiling above her mouthpiece. The light dances playfully in her green-gray eyes as she taps her foot in time to the quick beat. It bounces off the keys of her clarinet. Another sigh of annoyance escapes her as she misses a rhythm she knows well.  Her foot stops tapping, and starts again, slower this time. She plays the rhythm slowly. Then again, and again. Methodically. Soon, she speeds up. Eventually, the rhythm is up to speed and perfected. She begins her song again, foot tapping out the beat. This time, there isn't a wrong note. She smiles triumphantly, the music from her instrument lighting up her face. The happiness that radiates-from the music, from her, from her instrument- is happiness that I can’t contain, happiness that accompanies her music and her life. I am in awe. I am inspired by the happiness and it makes life beautiful. Again, I hear her tapping her foot and I look up into her face to see her playing again. But somehow, she’s smiling. I can hear the happiness while she plays I can feel her emotion from the music. And it’s beautiful. Like her, like the music, like the world. It’s beautiful.


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