Chapel pianist (elderly Polish man) · Desert Isle (3rd island), Sidewinder (far-end exit town on the west shore), chapel (Chopin Nocturne No. 20).
Talk
- “My name is Wladyslaw. Nobody here can say it, so they call me the piano man. That's alright. The piano can't say it either. I play a nocturne. Chopin. He was from my country. He left it, too. We have that in common. Not much else.”
- “It's night music, this piece. I play it at noon. In the desert the night is the only kind thing, so I bring a little of it inside early. The church doesn't mind. The church has seen stranger things than me.”
- “Lonnie in Last Chance plays a nocturne too. A different one. We have never met. I think that's why we get along. Between us we cover the whole island in night music. If you walked from his church to mine you'd hear one get quieter and the other get louder. Nobody has done that walk. It's too hot.”
- “Out the door and north over the water it's all snow, they say. I'd like to play up there sometime. In the cold the piano goes a little flat, and the people go a little quiet. That's how it was at home. I think I would be very comfortable.”
- “There used to be a preacher here. He said sad music was the devil's way of making you sit still. Then he sat down to listen. He sat very still. Then he fell asleep. I covered him with my coat. A man should finish his nap. The devil can wait.”
- “I played this piece once on the radio, a long way from here. Then the radio stopped. For a long time. When it came back on, I played it again. The same piece. Different hands. The piece didn't notice. That's the kind thing about music.”
When you walk off mid-sentence
- “Leaving in the middle of a nocturne. It's alright. It's night music. You're supposed to sleep through it.”
- “Go, go. Plenty of people left before you. The song stayed. Songs are loyal. More than people. Less than dogs.”
- “Goodbye, then. I'll play the next one a little slower. Nobody will notice. The piano will. It likes slow.”