I love you, Ravel.

Arturo Bendedetti Michelangeli with Sergiu Celibidache, performing the beautiful second movement of the Piano Concerto in G Major by Maurice Ravel, the watchmaker, the gentle Impressionist who soothes the soul & brings a welcome reverie to the soul. It is a refuge.

Another performance by Martha Argerish, with Claudio Abbado and the Berlin Philharmoniker:

I can’t remember when the first time I got to listen to this piece was, but it struck me so intensely with its beauty, and it still does today. I have many memories attached to this piece, particularly this second movement. One of them is of a girl friend of mine who had passed out from an exhausting episode (details tastefully saved), whom I took care of in my dorm room in my sophomore year in college.

She lay in my roommate’s bed, and I played this music / this music was playing on the stereo. It was peaceful, amidst a distressing circumstance, though there was much drama that was a result of some exaggerated actions and responses, which made it not such a threatening situation to begin with. I looked down at my friend, sitting by her, and caressed away the hair that had fallen across her forehead. She looked like a baby, sleeping like that after a traumatic episode, and I just sat there, for hours.

When she woke up, it was as if nothing had happened, much like a clear rest of the day after a gentle, quiet, but persistent afternoon shower had swept over the streets. The green of the trees was vivid, the cloudless sky hanging over the streets with a freshly washed face. It was all quite gentle, and I was grateful for that gentleness. Sometimes it is comforting just to know that another being had enough delicateness in his mind to caress every unsuspected ripple and wave of your emotions. So, thank you Ravel, for your gentleness. Gentleness allows us to surrender.