While Chopin is playing for me

This is the first time I speak about music. What is music for me? well...it's a pein, almost a pein.
I played the cello 'til i was near 15, but i hated it. It was and it's still my frustration. I started very young without any knowledge of it. I didn't even know what was that brown box. I suffered the lessons and the teachers i had - 3, 4...?
I had to learn and i had to love it, but i didn't. the problem was that it didn't sound like it has to, and i hadn't listened to any cello's record, so i didn't know what I could do.
When i started to like it a little bit it was so late. Then i started to play "The swan", from Saint-Säens. The poor swan was never beautiful enough in my hands.
Some years later i tried to start again, while i tried the piano too -i have played it before, a little-. Then it was Chopin who suffered because of me.
Well, music is not my bussiness but, at least, i enjoy it a lot know.
I feel like if i am not in this world for a few seconds, it's like to live in a novel, in a history wich is realer thn the reality, it's purer. I don't know, i feel tht i'm just saying stupid things.
I just know that i would like to be better musician, a better student, a better friend...i don't know. I'm not satisfied of myself and Chopin makes me be more sad or sensible. "Forgive my sadness" as a spanish poet says. His music envelops me like a smog where i'm just a shadow.

hERE it is a selection of people, pleces, faces, windows...














I'M SO SORRY OF MY ENGLISH, I JUST WAnTED TO TRY...