Waiting.
Two or three times he asked her to play something on the old piano. Wladek played, and he played with gusto. Although he felt safer alone, there was a certain pleasure in being listened to. He liked it when he saw the officer close his eyes, remove his hands from his pockets and relax his shoulders. When his eyes met and there was satisfaction in both of them. He liked it when, at the end of each melody, the officer smiled, and as sadistic as he might seem, he liked it even more when he cried.
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Finalmente acabou. Foi bom enquanto durou, mas agora está tudo morto.
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“The Pianist is one of the best films I've ever seen in my life, and it was a pleasant surprise to find a story about it here. Adrien Brody was magnificent as always in the role of Szpilman, and his performance touches the hardest of hearts. In this fic, there is a rapprochement between Szpilman and Wilm, both thirsty for food, human warmth, affection, things that are scarce in a war. They end up falling into each other's arms, despite all their guilt, for treading on dangerous ground. There are reflections on how different or the same they are; painful reflections on the war, and all its stupidity. I was impressed, because the author of this fic captured all the sensitivity of the film, so that the scenes he described would easily fit into the script. I wish all the fics on Nyah were always sensitive and beautiful like this, despite all the melancholy and brutal themes. The author is to be congratulated.”
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