Oh, I felt lost that day, as I roamed through the streets of my hometown. I knew where I was, but inside me blustered a storm of feelings, that blew me away from sanity and in the arms of bitter chaos. All those feelings of doubt and failure wrestling with my weakened sense of hope and the unbearable lack of confidence. I have felt this for years, but on this particular day, my feet led me to a lamppost where my inner conflict suddenly broke through to the outside world: I banged my head against the lamppost a few times: “This is so boring!”, I shouted through the streets of Vienna, addressing my on and ongoing suffering. “When will this writer’s block ever end?”

It was music that eased my rage a bit and I followed it to a well where I sat down, enjoying a beautiful piece of Bach presented through the adorable voices of flute and cello. Yes, I noticed the sunlight getting a remarkable shimmer of gold, painting the town in a gentle tone of joyfulness. And of course I noticed the quality of the street-musician’s contribution rising in surprisingly sudden way. But it was the beauty of the lady, that appeared on my side, that gave her away. Her hair alone was easily the most beautiful thing I ever saw, wavy surrounding the face of a goddess with its golden brightness. The flute celebrated her appearance with the loveliest sound possible, letting the flutist’s face lighten in surprise. The cello, now sounding like a choir of angels, seemed to only play for her. Her sparkling eyes met mine and her curious look invited me to say something: “You are a muse”, I heard my voice speaking with astonishment. She smiled the most wonderful smile ever smiled. “You are a clever girl”, she said. “We will work together quite nicely.”

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