when in france,
she was a stranger,
an outsider.
she didn't belong there
with these people who were all a part of a heritage,
a background.
she was a smudge on the beautiful culture,
not contributing anything-
a tourist,
a foreigner...
she was eating in a quiet cafe,
wishing she could become one with these people
who so interested her.
these people with loose hair and an unmatched zest for life.
she desperately wanted to mesh with them,
to blend with them,
to fit in seamlessly,
but she failed.
it was then that she glanced over in a dark corner of the cafe
and noticed a lonely piano...
her tour guide urged her,
to go.
to play.
and after much head shaking and hustled refusals,
she made her way
with blushed cheeks and shaky knees
to the dark corner.
and as she set down,
she felt the music bleed out of her soul,
the most beautiful music she had ever created.
she poured her love of the country,
her desire to be of the people,
and her yearning to possess the energy around her,
into every chord.
and as she looked around,
they noticed her...
these people who inspired her,
these people whom she wanted so badly to connect with.
and for the first time since her arrival,
she was one of them,
a part of their beautiful culture,
she was finally at home.
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