One day, Misha and I entered the hall where our singing class was held. Boris Sergeyevich was playing something softly on the piano. Misha and I sat by the window and didn't disturb him; he didn't even notice us and continued playing. Various sounds flowed rapidly from his fingers. They spread out, creating something warm and joyful. I really liked it; I could have listened for a long time, but Boris Sergeyevich soon stopped playing. He closed the piano lid, saw us, and said joyfully:
— Oh! Look who it is! You’re sitting there like two sparrows on a branch by the window! So, what do you have to say?
I asked, — What were you playing, Boris Sergeyevich?
He replied, — That was Chopin. I love him very much.
I said, — Of course, since you are a singing teacher, you must love various songs.
He said, — This is not a song. I love songs too, but this is something much greater than a song.
I asked, — What word do you use to describe it?
He answered thoughtfully and clearly: — Mu-si-ca. Chopin is a great composer. He wrote wonderful music. I love nothing more than music.
Then he looked at me and asked, — And what do you love? What is your favorite thing in the world?
I replied, — I love many things.
I told him that I loved dogs, carving wood, elephants, red cavalry, pink-footed deer, ancient warriors, cool stars, the different breeds of horses — everything, everything...
