And they did.
Chiara’s violin screamed, not with ice-cold precision, but with a raw, keening grief. Luigi’s cello growled like a wounded beast. The French horns, drunk and desperate, blasted a tone that was both wrong and absolutely perfect. The timpani thundered like the collapse of a dynasty. prova d orchestra
The sound was a gunshot. Everyone stopped. And they did
He raised his baton again. This time, it trembled, but not from age. From fury. And they did. Chiara’s violin screamed
