The setting was a tiny little theater with seats for no more than 30 people. On the stage, classically arranged red drapes formed a curtain that gave the room a very theatrical, dreamlike appearance. The miniature size of things made Mia feel a little like Alice in Wonderland, and the temperature enhanced her feeling that things were unreal. There was no air-conditioning and it was one of those suffocating hot nights in town. Since so little people were present, it almost appeared to be some secret meeting, where a select group had somehow been picked to witness something extraordinary. When the violinist came up from behind the curtain, the audience greeted him with a warm applause. He started playing immediately as if not to lose any time. The musician's abandonment made Mia hold her breath. For a man his age, the extremely physical act of violin playing in an atmosphere where you could almost cut the air must have been very hard his body. Yet, it seemed there was only one way for him to go: the most intense and possessed one. Like a fountain, melody poured out of him while time seemed to stand still. Because he was improvising every bit, the suggestion of possession grew stronger. Free expression without any plan or structured form to fall back on. Maybe this was the first time she fully experienced the power of improvised jazz.