[Infrastructure] Rose kissed Barcelona

Joey withdrew the bow with lightning speed, trying to erase the sound just now from Sarasate's memory.

I haven't touched the piano for a long time, and the first time I pressed the string with my left hand, I didn't press it correctly, and when I came out, I was shocked and wept.

"I suggest," she weakly raised the bow, "I'd better add a mute..."

"No." Sarasate refused straight away, "When the mute is added, the charming timbre of the violin itself is gone."

There is no charming tone at first, boss.Joey cursed, intending to struggle again.

"It's okay, it's Qin's problem," Sarasate smiled as if reading her mind.

He took the violin from her hand and put it back into the violin case, his movements were extremely gentle, "You try to play my violin."

His piano!

Joey was moved again without disappointment.

Stradivari violin!It is not surprising that the aristocrats among the aristocrats of this musical instrument cost at least a few million dollars in her era, and it was not surprising that they cost hundreds of millions more.She had never seen it, let alone touched it.

And it was Sarasate's violin!

Omg, it feels like an opportunity to bite into a Newton's apple.There is simply no way to say no.

People have a big addiction to cooking, so I'm talking about her.

Joey swallowed his saliva in his fluttering fantasy, and saved his last sanity: "Mr. Sarasate, let's go to the roof terrace."

Although the few bigwigs in the house are not yet famous at this time, she still has to face.

The spacious terrace is covered with red bricks, with curved and colorful chimneys growing on the raised white base, and the colorful mosaic pattern of broken glass pieces gradually extending to the dragon ridge glaze on the front, which is magnificent and magical, yet completely natural.

Very beautiful.

But no matter how beautiful it is, it does not focus on the effect of sound.

Sunny without glare.Sarasate took out the violin from his well-decorated case and carefully rubbed it with golden rosin.

Turning around, he smiled softly: "Okay, now only me and Feng can hear your piano."

From his hand, Joey took over the priceless violin with a pious heart.

It is very light.It doesn't have the heavy sense of history as she imagined.

The transparent lacquer ignites sparkling flames on the golden amber panel, reflecting the golden light in the gentle sunlight.

The neck is not painted, and the wood feels warm and moist after numerous frictions, while the scale spruce on the piano grows a uniform and fine wood grain around the two f-holes.

Soft and gorgeous, as if it had a life of its own.

Very good, it's worth it to touch this one.

"Concentrate. Relax your left hand." Sarasate tapped the back of her left hand.

"Don't pinch the neck too tightly with your thumb and index finger, as it won't slide when you change the handle."

Joey relaxed a little tremblingly, and then felt a slightly lower temperature from the back of his right hand, "You need to relax your right wrist. It was too stiff just now."

Sarasate's right hand covered her hand, pinching the bow with her fingers: "Okay. Come on, try now."

Sarasate's voice was low, slow, and gentle.

It seemed to be inadvertent, but it happened to be close to her ear, and the warm air flowed out along with the words, blowing the broken hair on her sideburns like this.Itchy, making people want to shrink their necks.

At this moment, Sarasate held her hand and pulled out the first longbow.

In an instant, hundreds of flowers bloomed.

Joey never thought that such a piano sound could flow from his fingertips.

roundabout.repeat.

Breathing one after another.

Endless love.

Although she was a bit jerky at the beginning, and her left hand was sometimes inaccurate when she was nervous, but slowly, she gradually immersed herself in the beautiful sound of the piano.

The left hand seems to have retrieved some scattered and dotted memories. The fingertips are touching the strings, and they can't help but press the familiar fingerings, and even start to vibrate the strings gently.

"Canon in D Major".

Very simple polyphonic music, almost no technique.

The familiar melody that pierced through time flowed on the shining terrace, brushed softly through her hair, and dissipated in the transparent air.

After the song was over, his low laughing voice came from her ear: "Your D is always pressed a little high."

The breath brushed against Joy's ear, making her tremble.

She blinked belatedly—can she take back what she said before?

Mr. Sarasate is too good at it.

……

"Maybe it was a hallucination just now. There is no sound again." Vincent said.He immediately threw himself back into his painting.

Mary shrugged and left without saying anything.

The surroundings became quiet again, and Antonio thought about it with some doubts.

Why, does it feel very familiar?

Finally, he shook his head, and his eyes fell back on Vincent's painting again.

The wonderful feeling at the first sight came to my heart again.

It was a sketch, sketched in pencil, reinforced with pen, and thickened in a few lines with a soft reed pen.

It's hard to say how proficient his painting skills are.In fact, since architecture serves the upper class in most cases, Antonio is very familiar with the standards that are now sought after in the painting world-the proportions of figures must be correct, and every detail must be expressed in place, as accurate as a photo.

The nobles want to see their own portraits exactly the same, of course, it would be even better if they can beautify a little within the appropriate range.

Vincent's painting is clearly not the case.

On a technical level, perspective is problematic.In this painting of a sleeping old man, the old man's head, hands and feet are larger than normal.But Antonio just flitted through these technical issues with his architect's mind, and then focused on the overall feeling of the painting.

Yes, feeling.

Although there is a problem with the proportion, he can feel the old man's deep fatigue from this painting.The entire picture is shrouded in shadows, the street lamps cast heavy light, and the old man is sleeping in a place where the light cannot reach, making him look even more depressed.His wrinkled face and hands are like dry branches, and every line tells the story of his heavy life.

He felt strong emotions from this painting.

This is an experience he has almost never experienced when looking at paintings of this era before.

Antonio was a little surprised.If memory serves me, Joey sent Vincent to Lonja Academy of Fine Arts.There won't be such a painting taught there, will it?

His eyes quickly scanned the scattered paintings next to him——

Miners, beggars, gypsies in the street, old women peeling potatoes, maids sweeping with brooms, old peasants staggering with crooks.

There is not a single sheet of gods or angels, not one sheet of nobles.

Unbelievable.

A subtle voice came out from the bottom of my heart—this man, like him, was a rebel in art.

"Okay! It's finished."

Vincent threw the pen away, and Antonio watched as the poor pencil drew a perfect parabola—beautiful indeed, for his next building—and tragically broke his head.

Vincent held out the soot of the pencil that hadn't been wiped off, and stretched out his hand: "Vincent van Gogh. Are you?"

"Antonio Gaudí." He hesitated for a moment, then reached out.

"Antonio?" Vincent rushed over, "You, you, you are Antonio Gaudí?!"

Antonio nodded reservedly.

Vincent jumped up and held his hand tightly: "So it's you! I've wanted to find the architect of this building for a long time, but I'm always drawing, too busy, alas... Antonio, your design is so genius! That light! That color! That flowing soul! Sitting here and drawing, I feel like I have never been more inspired!"

Antonio withdrew his hand calmly and coughed lightly: "...Your drawing is also very good."

Vincent didn't notice the partner's awkward mood at all, his heart was full of joy that was about to explode - how could there be no alcohol at this moment!

"Come on, Antonio, let's have a drink!" He warmly invited.

The corner of Antonio's mouth twitched: "Drink it, I... quit drinking recently."

Vincent was really not polite.

He went straight to fetch a bottle of absinthe from the corner, opened the cap with a bang and began to drink, saying as he poured, "Hey, Antonio, you have a good eye for seeing the value of my paintings! You can design People in such a house are really different from those rotten barrels in the college."

"It's hard not to agree." It was rare for Antonio to feel that this person's words still had a little appetite for him.

"Can what they paint be called art? The art they draw is dead! It's dead! Only a shell remains."

"It's a pity that the world is full of people who don't understand art. Their pursuit is valuable. Value! How vulgar."

Antonio let Vincent sigh with emotion, and just flipped through his other works thoughtfully.

From nowhere came the fluttering sound of a violin, perhaps a neighbor playing the violin.Antonio thought casually that the base note was always a little high.

However, the sound seemed to be far away, ethereal, but not to the extent of disturbing the people.

Vincent didn't hear the piano at all, and was still complaining.

"But I can't help it, I have to go to work for a living... It's a pain to work. Life is repeating every day, there is no hope. Fortunately, I met Joey... It feels good to have a patron."

Antonio keenly caught the key words from his words, and his voice couldn't help but sink: "Do you know why Joey wants to sponsor you?"

"Why?" Vincent also leaned over curiously, lowering his voice on purpose.

Antonio:"……"

This person really doesn't know.

Vincent drank too much and was already a little drunk: "Antonio, let me tell you. I always felt that no one understood me. Others are paying attention to those unimportant things-today, tomorrow. How much money , correct or not—"

He filled himself another glass and slapped the table: "Shit! Nothing they focus on lasts forever."

"I just thought, I'm so lonely. It's so uncomfortable to be alone. In fact, there is a fire in everyone's soul, but no one goes there to keep warm."

"Those passing by saw only the faint blue smoke from the chimney, and continued on their way."*

Antonio was touched by this sentence for a moment.

He has never been afraid of being alone, and even enjoys being alone.Solitude is his best friend and mentor.

……wrong.A small voice in my heart stuck out its head and wanted to refute, but was at a loss for words.

What does it want to say?

"Antonio, you have seen my fire, right?" Vincent was already a little incoherent, "Hey, I need colors... I want to paint the colors in my heart! If I can build such a dream like you My house would be fine...but I haven't learned the basics yet. I still have to draw dark sketches."

He slammed the wine bottle on the table with a "bang": "No, I have to work hard! Start drawing now!"

Antonio nodded, he is going to work hard too.

"Ah, I remember what I was going to say. I need a model! Antonio, make me a model!"

"No." Antonio refused without hesitation.

"Oh." Vincent scratched his head, "Then I'll go find Joey, she probably won't reject me..."

"..." Antonio picked up his portfolio with a cold face, "It's okay to be your model while drawing."

Within a few minutes, Mary came with a book in her arms: "Ada and other maids are cleaning my study room. The lighting in other rooms is not as good as here, so I'll just read a book on the side, okay?"

"I don't care. But I don't know who is playing the violin. I always feel that it sounds weird... But the sound is not loud, forget it, no problem." Vincent yawned and waved his hands indifferently.

So, an hour later, when Joey passed the door, he was surprised to see three people in the studio.

The little girl quietly huddled in the corner reading a book, while the other two were brushing and brushing on their respective easels with enthusiasm.

Everyone was extremely focused, and her head was close to the door, but no one noticed.It is the level of concentration that can be written into a textbook short story.

Joey couldn't help but raised his trembling hand just after practice, and covered his heart.

Genius is indeed 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.The wisdom of the ancestors is in this sentence.

People who are better than me work harder than me.

...Then why should I try so hard?

"Oh, it's all here."

Sarasate leaned over to her and looked at the people in the studio, and said with a smile, "It seems that when I taught you the violin, the other children were also working hard."

Teaching the violin?

After a while, several eyes suddenly focused on Joey.

Is it an illusion?

She seemed to hear something snapping in two.

The author has something to say: Joy's Diary:

The house of Fernandez is also peaceful today, and I am very relieved.

*Quoted from a letter Van Gogh wrote to his brother.

Thanks to the pudding gnocchi family and Mr. Chrissy for mine!Thank you little cuties for the nourishment solution!