ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
St. Peter's Abbey, Salzburg, Austria
The boy crept up from the underbelly of the cathedral, ear straining for footfalls behind him. He knew he would be punished if he was caught away from his post at the bellows with the other peasant boys, but some force beyond his control drew him up to listen.
It was the music.
Floating down from the lofty ceilings, seeming to stream from the mouths of the chubby painted cherubs, the throaty notes of the organ wrapped around the boy, resonating to his core. Down beneath the church, where he normally pumped the bellows to supply air for the organ's pipes, only a faint vibration could be felt, a mere shadow of the music's glory. Here, feeling the pure sound wash over him, he let his eyes drift shut as he basked in it. A sense of rightness, of belonging, descended upon the boy. He wanted nothing more than to sit at that bench and weave the music's magic through the air. It was meant to be. It was his destiny.
"You! Boy! What are you doing up here? Get downstairs and work where you belong!"
Startled, the boy scurried back to the stairs, casting one more wistful look at the organist's throne before he vanished back into the depths of the church.
