I needed to work. I had so much to do in this end of spring. My summer festivals were about to begin. I had to teach again in the Academy of Arts and did everything which fulfilled my daily life. I liked to take care of my closest ones and people who always trusted me. Every spent minute is a lost minute for me. I was not an inactive man . During my childhood, my parents so often repeated me that doing nothing was like stealing time from Good Lord!
Calypso could not come into the room and but scratched at the door and yapped. She understood I was ill and surely thought her place was next to me.  Despite everything against me, I moved and tumbled again. This time, it was on the bed, which lessened the consequences. For a long time, I stayed with my face looking at the ceiling. I was crying. Here I was: the proud, skillful musician able to lead without music sheets, to play the organ if I had to or a large part of the repertory of the viola. Did I take so many contest, exams, papers and survive threats of my childhood to come to that? To resign myself not to move and fear I rolled like a bale?