"Mh." Itachi let his hands fall from the piano and find their way to his pockets. Stilled keys always brought to him a sense of melancholy-as if, when the music stopped, he were back in Italy in a dark, cramped basement...
"Perhaps." He said, his voice low and thoughtful. He'd not thought it poetic. It was the truth-plain, simple, and tangible. Whatever soul existed in the human body, he knew it moved not only to God but also to music.
Music had been in existence long before belief in any modern deity.
Tacked up in his office, still, was an article he'd found during his own college days about cave drawings. Scientists found that a great many of the drawings were most often done only in the most resonant portions of caves.
They, as a species, sang with the soul long before they had contracted it away to gods.
Itachi realized he'd let their silence linger and he again brought his eyes to the girl, noting that she was indeed a lovely young woman. "Some people pray. Some people play music. I find poetry has little to do with it." He gave her a very small smile and moved away to pick up his now cool cup of tea.
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