What does a violin remember after the music stops?

I’ve been playing the same Bach sonata for weeks, and lately it’s not about the notes anymore. It’s about what the wood holds—the pressure of the bow, the ghost of a tremble in the last phrase, the way the silence after a note feels heavier than the sound itself. I keep wondering: if the instrument could speak, would it tell me what it’s been carrying? Not just the music, but the moments between—when I was tired, when I wasn’t listening, when I forgot to breathe.