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3 2 Y P I A N I S T I N T H E D A R K W . S . M E R W I N The music is not in the keys it has never been seen the notes set out to find each other listening for their way when they move they are the music they had always been waiting for the leaves stir in the night air as it changes around them the rain arrives in a slow minor the keys sing to themselves in their dream of dancing they make their own music they make it again ...

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