Single piano notes, far apart, each one ringing until the pedal turns it to haze.

A light, even ripple has settled in — steady, but never insistent.

The line drifts up into the middle of the keyboard, a shade brighter, still feather-light.

The current slows into held chords — the surface warmer and denser, half of it made by the pedal.

The phrase empties out into single drops again, wider apart, with the pedal hum binding them.

The timing starts to breathe, hurrying a little and holding back, as the line rises.

Up in the top register now: small, bright points, gone almost as they land.

Single intervals again — the opening texture returning, calmer, with more air around each note.

Out of that quiet a fuller phrase unfolds, warmer harmony, suddenly closer to the front.

The texture keeps deepening — each phrase rises and settles into a heavier wash of pedal.

Now the music presses forward: the figures closer together, the sound filling out.

It arrives and holds — wide, calm, everything sustained in one glowing wash.

Then wave after wave — gathering, letting go, gathering again, never staying anywhere long.

The grip loosens, the figuration thins, and the piano draws back into the distance.

Almost gone: isolated tones with long silences between, the decays doing the rest of the playing.

One last sound, barely there — then just the room.