I played for him once. Tunes were simple but at the moment magical, they were dancing on the stairs reaching my fathers ears on the first floor. I heard that he stopped, sitting in his wheelchair he listened. I thought he will ask me to stop but I knew that those tunes are for him, with such a power that will block him in the moment, let him forget about reality and bring closer to something that gives him happiness and light at the end of a tunnel. I played and played, only those five tunes repetitively circulating under my fingers, blown by my heart with the whole universe coming through the mouth. It felt strange, like this kind of a moment when you don't really know what is happening, when only the tune remains and is screwing your mind upside down, where you disappear and the music takes over. Unfortunately some called me and I had to go. While running down the stairs and passing my father he sent to me a question, why don't you play anymore? I hope that one day in some winter evening while i will be far away, those tunes will come back to him while staring into the fire and will bring him that moment. But now I take my magic flute to play for some other people somewhere else around the world.