He repeated the phrase on the piano. Imperfect. Slightly out of rhythm. But true.
Luka hadn’t touched a piano in three years. Not since the accident that took the hearing in his left ear and the feeling in two fingers of his right hand. His piano, a battered old Petrof, stood in the corner of his apartment like a ghost. Its lid was closed. Dust layered the keys like snow over a forgotten battlefield. nek svud ljubav sja note piano best
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