Miss music teacher of Winterthur

Your kids are wearing orange caps and combed haircuts. Standing around in a semicircle, some boys don´t know what do to with their hands. Moms & Dads are waiting beyond, on the other site of the pedestrian way, taking pictures, clapping hands after every song.

You´re  sitting on a electric piano, wearing a white blouse and so much passion in your eyes conducting your kids Vois sur ton chemin. You can´t read the music, turning your head around to cheer boys & girls with looks & props.

Miss music teacher, I catch one of your views, it´s a second too long till you turn your eyes down. I drop down the shades, you´re smiling at me with this choral of angels on your site. There is no other person around. Just you & me, and the back-round choir.

When the music is over, you turn on the light. I´m back on a promenade. Two hours later I´ll see a little wave of orange caps, holding ice cream in front of a coffee shop. You´re there, too, sitting with your parents like all your kids. And you smile when I pass by, Miss music teacher of Winterthur.

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