This piece by Wilhelm Sasnel shows a lot of emotion.  Despite its seemingly simple painting technique, it depicts an older man playing the piano.  He has a drink on the top of the piano, as if to imply he has been there for a while.  The man is concentrated, learning his desired song one hand at a time.  His slouching body and stern face are a rough exterior.  But deep down, this is the talent he had always wanted.  He has worked hard, asking for nothing extravigant in his life.  His big, rough arms show the heavy lifting he has done, the constant working for not much pay.  He was invited to a small party at a friends house, possibly a summer cookout in the local neighborhood with the sunsetting behind the pillar of smoke made by the grill.  The man talks to his wife's friends, with a slightly distracted and uninterested look in his eye.  The man took moments like this to ponder his seemingly monotonous lifestyle.  He proceeded to shrug it off as he always did when his the women stopped trying to make conversation with him.  He walks through the living room, where the lights are off as to imply that the room is not for party goers.  He finds the baby Grand sitting in the corner.  He looks at it.  It shows off its attractive black and white keys to him.  The temptation is too great.  Just him and a life long dream.  He sits down on the glossy black bench and sets his drink on the top of the piano, feeling bad about potentially making a water mark on the table, but just for a moment.  His middle finger lands on middle G. His fingers start to dance.  G, then A, then C.  His left hand touches B flat; not a good sound.  He ajusts.  Before too long, he is engulfed by the harmonies of his master piece.  He hears nothing except for the cheering and laughter of his inner child as he is finally fed.  A smile of true happiness crawls onto his face.  The kind of smile that finds you at truly happy moments.  He had not felt the warmth and comfort of the smile in a while.  He looked out of the venitian-blinded window for a quick gulp of inspiration.  He looked back at the keys; they glimored.  Time became a blur as his drink sweat and a song was born.