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It was springtime in Paris, and the avenues were lined with mimosa trees laden with fluffy, golden blossoms.
He said:
You see that? That’s what you want to bring to your sound — gold.
I said:
Show me.
So he sat down at the piano and put colour into his sound.
— Rachmaninoff, 1933It was springtime in Paris, and the avenues were lined with mimosa trees laden with fluffy, golden blossoms.