From the Conservatory of Music named after Rimskiy Korsakoff to the Mariinskiy Theater, 6 years in St Petersburg has more than opened my eyes (and ears) to the auditory haven this city has to offer.
How often does one come across a place like this? When a simple walk down the busiest street of the city is, in itself, an invitation to the world of fine arts?
I was hooked from the time I set foot into my first Peterian concert hall for my first musical evening. From the first note to the last encore, every second was a swirling palette of aesthetics. The eye followed every skilled movement, the ears caught what the eye couldn't see...and the heart melted.
And everytime I clapped my palms red after those curtain calls, part of me yearns to be up there - playing, singing, pirouetting, and that longing for something that will never happen yank at my heart so cruelly it hurts.
How often does one come across a place like this? When a simple walk down the busiest street of the city is, in itself, an invitation to the world of fine arts?
I was hooked from the time I set foot into my first Peterian concert hall for my first musical evening. From the first note to the last encore, every second was a swirling palette of aesthetics. The eye followed every skilled movement, the ears caught what the eye couldn't see...and the heart melted.
And everytime I clapped my palms red after those curtain calls, part of me yearns to be up there - playing, singing, pirouetting, and that longing for something that will never happen yank at my heart so cruelly it hurts.
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