S̶e̶a̶n̶’s Reviews > The Passion Artist > Status Update

His fingers on the valves of his trumpet were like mice in a forest filled with snow. By day the sounds of his trumpet filled the village streets, in chorus with the trumpets of the several other members of the boys' marching band. By night those same sounds came faintly from the stars, the planets, unceasingly, until light and sounds together faded and disappeared in the darkness yielding to the falling snow.