There is nothing worse than seeing your dreams fall apart. It is when you realise that you are just surviving and not really living that you know you have to do something about it. And Mari had been just surviving. She had been trapped in a marriage where she was simply a housewife. Not allowed to work, not allowed to dream, not allowed to truly live. And to escape, Mari left Cardiff on that warm spring day. As she was leaving her homeland, she could not stop remembering the tears in her mother's eyes. She had always been her safe harbour, the pillar that held her life together. But now, not even she could save her. 

 

As she took the airplane, she fastened the seatbelt and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes. Now everything was over. When the flight landed, she was in Germany. She could not speak a word of German except Guten Morgen and Guten Abend, but she was hopeful. She would start a new job as a violinist at the Berlin Philharmonic.

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Now, she would not wait. She would not be oppressed. She would never be silenced again. She would be alone and be what she always wanted to be. A musician. To live surrounded by melodies. To live what she had always been denied. What he always denied her. But now he was gone, and she was there. In Berlin.

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All she ever desired was about to happen. She would be in the Chamber Music Hall. Playing the violin in an orchestra. And nothing in the world could now take that away from her. Soon, she would be there. Surrounded by other musicians. All playing their instruments with tenderness. The audience moved. She could not wait to be there, but she was so tired. She had to rest. She lay in her bed, looking at the ceiling in that rented studio apartment with a small television and a fridge with no freezer. And she smiled. Finally, she was free.