Just played the same Bach prelude for two hours

Not because I was practicing. Just sat at the piano after dinner, started playing, and kept going. The notes didn’t change, but something in me did—like the music wasn’t meant to be mastered, just endured. I noticed how the city’s lights flickered on one by one outside the window, as if the building was waking up. At some point, I stopped thinking about technique, or even beauty. It felt less like performance than a kind of waiting. Like I was listening to myself listen.