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Description
The room was dark, Van was all alone on stage with his marimba. A five-octave beauty with rosewood bars and perfectly designed resonance tubes. All eyes were on him, in the dim light. He picked up his mallets, two pairs of black medium-hard Vic Firth birch handled mallets, and set them just perfectly between his fingers. The light dimmed further and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and struck the first block chord of a concerto he had never heard performed before.

Watching himself from the audience, Van studied his arm angle and his wrist flexibility. He weaved in and out of his own mind and concentration as his hands and mallets flew over the keyboard. The note movement was stunningly easy yet beautifully constucted to look absolutely complicated. His hands moved fluidly, perfection he had always strived for, and his hands weaved in and out of each other with flawless accuracy.

Van felt his concentration focus so hard on the bars of the marimba that he could not take his eyes off them. They were like beauty unbound, and his fluidity was amazing over them. This was truly a dream of the gods.

The scene shifted... it grew darker... lights went out, Van found himself playing in the dark. He was utterly concentrated on what he was doing, except it seemed much more focused, yet different. He felt his hands moving, but his mallets disappeared, and yet he was feeling along something smooth and cool. He knew it had to be the bars of the marimba... he was playing with his own hands, nothing separating him from his music... he was becoming the music itself.

Van felt like he never had before. He felt as if he was flying in the air, on wings of harmony, through twists and turns of the wind, climbing and falling wherever the air took him. He felt free from himself, finally, and tumbled through the endless dark, falling... falling...

His hands moved along the cool surface, and he felt his body tensing and yet relaxing at the same time. He could feel himself breaking a sweat as he danced in the air, mingling with the music itself to create a new kind of harmony never heard before.

He heard whispers, soft sighs, and a beat. A drumbeat, as steady as the rhythm that drove his blood. The tempo was accelerating, and he moved faster and harder, flew higher and farther, tumbling over his wings of the purest emotion... and finally, he flew through a cloud of completion, of climax, of beaty and freedom he had never felt before, and his body tensed and relaxed all at the same time as he was suspended in the air.

And he fell.

Fell through endless clouds of cool rain droplets in an emerald green sky toward a hazy beige sea. The world was unlike anything he had seen before. His eyes were unable to be taken away from the green, green and black, green and black shining back at him as he tumbled effortlessly and majestically through the sky.

He closed his eyes and felt his wings spread, felt as if he had truly become one with the world of music, and soared, floated, settled to a flat position on his back in a field of feathers. He opened his eyes and looked to the sky...

And where the sky was, he connected with a beautiful pair of emerald green eyes...

Description
The room was dark, Van was all alone on stage with his marimba. A five-octave beauty with rosewood bars and perfectly designed resonance tubes. All eyes were on him, in the dim light. He picked up his mallets, two pairs of black medium-hard Vic Firth birch handled mallets, and set them just perfectly between his fingers. The light dimmed further and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and struck the first block chord of a concerto he had never heard performed before.

Watching himself from the audience, Van studied his arm angle and his wrist flexibility. He weaved in and out of his own mind and concentration as his hands and mallets flew over the keyboard. The note movement was stunningly easy yet beautifully constucted to look absolutely complicated. His hands moved fluidly, perfection he had always strived for, and his hands weaved in and out of each other with flawless accuracy.

Van felt his concentration focus so hard on the bars of the marimba that he could not take his eyes off them. They were like beauty unbound, and his fluidity was amazing over them. This was truly a dream of the gods.

The scene shifted... it grew darker... lights went out, Van found himself playing in the dark. He was utterly concentrated on what he was doing, except it seemed much more focused, yet different. He felt his hands moving, but his mallets disappeared, and yet he was feeling along something smooth and cool. He knew it had to be the bars of the marimba... he was playing with his own hands, nothing separating him from his music... he was becoming the music itself.

Van felt like he never had before. He felt as if he was flying in the air, on wings of harmony, through twists and turns of the wind, climbing and falling wherever the air took him. He felt free from himself, finally, and tumbled through the endless dark, falling... falling...

His hands moved along the cool surface, and he felt his body tensing and yet relaxing at the same time. He could feel himself breaking a sweat as he danced in the air, mingling with the music itself to create a new kind of harmony never heard before.

He heard whispers, soft sighs, and a beat. A drumbeat, as steady as the rhythm that drove his blood. The tempo was accelerating, and he moved faster and harder, flew higher and farther, tumbling over his wings of the purest emotion... and finally, he flew through a cloud of completion, of climax, of beaty and freedom he had never felt before, and his body tensed and relaxed all at the same time as he was suspended in the air.

And he fell.

Fell through endless clouds of cool rain droplets in an emerald green sky toward a hazy beige sea. The world was unlike anything he had seen before. His eyes were unable to be taken away from the green, green and black, green and black shining back at him as he tumbled effortlessly and majestically through the sky.

He closed his eyes and felt his wings spread, felt as if he had truly become one with the world of music, and soared, floated, settled to a flat position on his back in a field of feathers. He opened his eyes and looked to the sky...

And where the sky was, he connected with a beautiful pair of emerald green eyes...