The first time I saw La Traviata I fell in love with it. I got home, dug out one of my dad's oldest cds and throughout that whole Winter that opera was all that could be heard coming from my bedroom. This was in 2003, if I remember correctly. By then I didn't sing or dance, so my Marianne side ran wild and quite unopposed. Those were different days. For years my life was something like that Winter. All made out of music and dreams. With the coming of Spring I kinda let it go and moved on to another quite saneless and depressive obsession. I'm not that girl anymore. And yet she's still here. Sometimes overthrowing my present self. Somedays it feels like so little has changed. I still have the urge to dug it out and click on play. The difference is that even though I might, I probably won't. And that's all I have to cling on to.