My whole life, my only love had been for classical music. All I ever wanted was to play those beautiful sounds forever.

But—

“Fail.” That word appeared in every rejection letter from the music schools where I auditioned. It made me feel really small.

Everybody tried to console me.

“Hang in there,” said my friends. “Cheer up,” said my parents. Those words stung because I no longer knew how to hang in there or cheer up. In the end, I had to leave the house with my violin.

At the local park, as night fell, people looked like shadows. Their faces were lit up a bit by the colorful lights from nearby shopping areas. The sound of jingles filled the air.

I almost forgot. Today was Christmas.

Snow started to fall. The freezing weather, along with my shattered dream, gave me no reason to celebrate the festival.

Yet, I felt like playing right then.

Even though I had never done a street performance before, playing my violin was the only joy I had left. My fingers felt the bow. I held the violin firmly beneath my chin. My eyes closed, and with my hand, the music began to resound. Chopin’s Consolation. Gustav Holst’s Jupiter. Those and all my favorite pieces, I knew them well and could play them from memory. Till, at last, it vanished. As the music replaced all the sounds of the night, my sadness, too, began to fade away.

The songs ended. When I opened my eyes, quite a crowd had gathered to listen. They all applauded.