"Place and Time ...We're all pillars of salt. ...Where does the music come from and where does it go when it's over— the child's unanswered question about more than music. My mother is dead, and the piano ...burned with our city in World War II. ...it's still her black Bechstein each concert pianist plays for me and... her... fingers are behind each virtuoso performance on the stereo, giving me back my prewar childhood city intact and real."