Have you ever heard a piece of music so beautiful that tears instantly flow? And you are NOT sad, not at all. You feel this immense happiness invading your body, your heart is on the verge of exploding and nothing else matters but the sweet sounds filling the air…

I was 8 or 9, definitely in grade school ,when i heard my first piece of classical music. Growing up in a communist country, radio and (or) TV was quite a luxury for regular folks like my parents. I think we got our first FM radio a month before the Romanian revolution but that’s another story.

So, I never felt that not having a TV will be huge issue, I loved reading, I did not mind not watching the endless political shows – well not endless, because, the national television at that time was airing only 2 hours a day, anyways.

But – yes- after that particular summer spent at my grandparents, in a god forsaken corner of the world, I felt that I could not live another day if we don’t get a radio.

To get back to my story, the first time I heard a piece of classical music, I was laying in the sun, on my grandparents porch, no books to read – all done after the first two days and there was no library in the village – bored to (almost) death and hoping the week will end sooner than later and my parents will come and pick me up.

My grandparents were out and about, probably working in the backyard; you could only hear the chickens running around, even the good old dog was too bored to move or bark or show any signs of life for that matter.

All of a sudden, right from across the street, from a house I completely ignored before, these sounds come invading the air – once you’ll hear the piece you’ll know exactly what I mean – so I open my eyes, not sure if I’m dreaming or not and trying to figure it out.

What the heck is happening? My heart stopped. For a brief second I thought this is it: the sun or the boredom killed me. And…BAM! this huge explosion of …of…nothing I heard before invaded me.  Nothing around me moved. Even the chickens were quiet. That kind of complete silence right before the storm hits.

It lasted a whole day or a few seconds – I don’t know – the only thing I remember is my grandma standing in front of me saying: ‘What’s wrong with you? Are you sad? Don’t cry, your cousins are coming tonight so you won’t be feeling alone’.

Yes, my cousins came and went home. I was there for 2 more weeks. No books or magazines, I spent ever day hoping my neighbours across the street will play the radio again. They did, but I guess that the kind of music I heard was an one time only slip; on the other hand, I could definitely tell you by heart the Danube river levels ( my Romanian friends know what I am talking about) in three different languages.

And yes, I bugged and bugged my parents for a radio with music that makes you cry for years – to which I only heard: ‘I’ll give you something that makes you cry alright, stop whining!’

To this day, certain pieces of music make me cry instantly. And that’s a good thing. Because I feel alive.  And, as Nietzsche said ‘without music, life would be a mistake’. And who wants to makes mistakes?