An ethereal composition bathed in light, which ripples over the expanse of the keyboard. It is Chopin in a blessed moment, improvising and happy. His nerves are calm, and his deadly disease in check. Even the long trio in E minor, of seraphic lyric beauty, has no sign of morbidezza. The passagework is elegant; the coda is a picture of pastel beauty. Enchanting.
Thanks so much.