ntoanother.

    Forinspiration,Iwouldsometimesunfoldthephotocopyofthepassengerlistandstudythenames.AbramandClara,theirsonsFriedrich,Josef,andGustav.ThelegendaryAnna.Theirghostsappearedinfragments.AdoctorlistenstomyheartbeatwhileMotherfretsoverhisshoulder.Facesbendtome,speakingcarefullyinalanguageIotuand.Herdarkgreenskirtasshewaltzes.Tangofapplewine,sauerbratenintheoven.Throughafrostedwindow,Icouldseemybrothersapproachthehouseonawintersday,theirbreathexplodingincloudsastheyshareaprivatejoke.Intheparlorstandsthepiano,whichItouchagain.

    Playingmusicistheonevividmemoryfromtheotherlife.NotonlydoIrecalltheyellowiheelaboratetwistingvihescrollworkmusid,thesmoothnessoftherosewoodfinish,butIhearthosetunesagain,ahesensatiowhileplaying—strikethesekeys,hearthesenotesresoundfromthedepthsofthemae.Thebinationofnotesmakesupthemelody.Translatethesymbolsfromthescoretothecorrespondingkeys,aherighttime,tomakethissong.Myoruelinktomyfirstchildhoodisthatsensationingthedreamofolife.Thesongeginmyheadbeesthesongresoundingintheair.Asachild,thiswasmywayofunlogmythoughts,andnow,aturyormorelater,Iattemptedtocreatethesameseamlessexpressihmyposition,butitwasasifIhadfoundthekeyandlostthekeyhole.IwasashelplessasEdwardinhispreverballife,learningtounicatemydesiresallain.

    BeingaroundourtinyspeechlessboyremindedmeofthatlostlifeandmademecherishthememoriesEdwardcreatedeverypassingday.Hecrawled,stood,grewteeth,grewhair,fellihus.Hewalked,hetalked,hegrewupinamomentbehindourbacks.Wewere,foratime,theperfe