It had to embody the resonances of the story, set up a signature that was at once modern and classical, startling and beguiling, like the narrator’s deep love for her instrument.
A piano against a sky. But not just any old piano, a red one. A piano that screams blood, passion, hell even. It contains the very soul of the narrator, the thundering wonder of making glorious noise to express that you’re alive.
The sky I chose for souls in flight, The antithesis of what’s solid. Nebulous matters beyond our corporeality. A veil between us and outer space. Lying on your back on a warm day and gazing forever into your own imagination.
Or perhaps it’s just sky.