The more I play the cello, the more I love it. But if it loves me back, it does so in a guarded way. I have to spend many hours with it, patiently and methodically, and only then it rewards me by letting me hear a few notes in tune or a short string of seamless bowings. Every time my fingers land perfectly where they are supposed to, I am in awe of the mystery of this complex process. How do they know how far to travel? Without the benefit of frets, 1 millimeter this or that way is unacceptable, and yet the hand finds its way “in the dark”. http://wp.me/p6Qr0-uT