He became like a melody heard very, very low . Believed he was one of the executions of mind , that selfishly , occasionally playing himself with a caption " all rights reserved " .But no . The sounds became more manageable . Tamburo playing a violin and a cello . Was " Bolero " ! Music , if it was not silence, broken only by the sounds that trigger itself , may not be heard . The sounds were very, very delicate , as if someone wanted to awaken . Joined mind to play with them .After a while , a flute and flew far, far away , in the alley where it was grown , in the compartment from where ever seen a big poplar .Winds blew clarinet and poplar shook parachutes pellet of white pellets as elusive dream , as these sounds insecure to be strengthened .No tape , where small lights ascend and descending degree of frequency of notes . Who had put the Luat cidinë ? The student seemed to sleep .A harp and a fagotë dissociated from trivial puzzle of finding and spoke with city noise birth , ndjellaëmbël , mjegullues , where to start work early in the morning and finish late in the evening , without the gjithëhershmë trandje , blunted by sounds music at school , home and road .After a French kornoje , slightly stronger , which rested somewhere in the background of a flute , braided sky as snow , tenor Saxophone spotted . His father was talking to a child reprehensible behavior . His voice kept full of such moments even baballëk tone , but heavy Mirela spirit of his every word . A soprano saxophone poised situation somewhat . His mother repeated admonitions of his father, but the results of their highly enjoyable , if correction by Mirela , in an effort to save the situation . She had done as he was told and the sound of a diligent and a kornoje pikoloje French concert reminded that had managed to give the city orchestra . It had heart emanating Association of instruments of music and applause of spectators .From tape already spread another kornoje grades , her English , accompanied by two clarinet .A plate of escaped you and for little broken. Traboni followers cried Mirela zgjueshëm and remembered what it was. A cleaner ! The piles of work waiting to be done. Had not yet finished with utensils. Let the house cleaning that had not started yet .Common violin sounds , taboros and rushed him ksilofonit movements . The floor tiles were violated tainted foods lashes , some of which , she knew not easily washed off .Shaking table cover . Threw cigarette butts that were overflowing ashtrays . Bobo ... Some dishes were gjysmëfshehur sweets in one unhealed shelves of a buffet . I needed to separate intact from the start. The head was a mess.The orchestra played with all the vessels .Fuck that conduct work ! The same " work " , the same home . He had been lucky to this , for all like it ?Ksilofoni play more strongly . It was followed immediately by a soprano saxophone , cello again traboni and harrowing .