BARBARA: The Story of a UFO Investigator - Exopolitics Hongkong

Barbara: The Story of a UFO Investigator 33
piano, my beloved piano. I let my eyes caress each curve
on the instrument. What was it mother had said about my
love for the piano Oh, yes, she’d called it “obsession” and
I guess that was the same as love. I wanted to compose and
play great works.
During the next few weeks I never missed a day in the
music room. Nobody seemed to mind that I spent hours
alone there. Except that one day I found that I wasn’t really
alone.
At first it was just the piano that I loved. Then I saw
something, or should I say someone, who changed my life.
One day, after I’d played for awhile, I kissed the marble
faced composers, as usual trying to avoid Lizst’s marble
mole, then I sank to the floor to relax into the plush blue
carpet. In moments, seated at the Steinway, an image began
to form. It was a man, a man who was playing my piano.
It was as if I were listening to music from a distance,
piano music, music as transparent as the man as he took
shape before me. As he became more solid, so did his
music.
He was there and he grew even more real as I watched.
Even so, I guess I knew he wasn’t truly there, because I
understood that even if I couldn’t see through him, I knew
that if I tried to touch him, my fingers would touch nothing.
Every time I finished playing in the days following, I lay on
that blue rug to watch for him, to wait for him, to listen to
him.
He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, in his
severely tailored long coat of black velvet over his black
velvet trousers. The coat buttoned high to his throat and his
angular white face showed to the best advantage in the light
from the windows. Above wonderfully high cheek bones,
his huge dark eyes appeared to be stealing glances at me
even though he gave the piano his full force and attention.
His long face was framed by wind-blown, chin length dark