The Siege of Vienna

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About the Author

To my daughter Heide with admiration and devotion!

Sometime ago you wished to know since when I had lived, why I appear, time after time, in your life and the reason of my immortal existence; then I remembered the day of my last death and our first encounter.

There on the beach, where the sun emerges early and rises majestically, with joy in my heart and fire in my soul. There, where those who suffer laugh with delight before the richness of ideas and the demise of evil, there where as a boy I dreamed and as an old man I learned to love, to weep and to survive the wilting of my body and the wisdom of my intellect.

There I found you. After death I was reborn and I returned a wiser man, more compassionate, more remorseful, and with far more love in my heart and in my soul. From the depths of your melancholic eyes, you gazed at me with the blue of their center, like the sea in June. Your white skin and your fair hair lifted a thousand love poems and elegies of the past and the absolute to the wind and the sun. In your little girl’s soul, perhaps you understood that you also were a fusion of the past, the present, and, yes, of my future.

Soliloquies of sorrow in my tormented soul… Why was I the only one and the first in this world to recall the countless lives lived in our incommensurable past? I watched you attentively. You gleaned from my eyes the taste of many sorrows but most of all, the immense pleasure of many loves, the life that was yours, and the love that was ours.

You took my hand and we departed, leaving behind your parents and your brothers and sisters. Perhaps because you had had so many parent, so many brothers and sisters your old memories mix in one idea; the only thing that endures, the only thing that exists, the only thing that prevails throughout infinite time and space is the absolute certainty that you and I are one.

In my roaming and wandering through the millenniums, I am overwhelmed by the bitter taste of the lives in which I did not know you, in which I did not find you among the multitudes. Perhaps the Creator, in his wisdom and omnipotence, does not –and did not- want in his paradise, or his inferno, so radiant a spirit to exist, a soul which possesses what it most desires, that is, you. For me, this is always what you are. Your love is what my body and my mind most yearn for.

Now that I have found you, I can tell you that you have always accepted me; today, happily, you belong to no one, but yourself. Anguish of my soul, love of my loves, passion of my mind. You must know that in my wanderings through time and space, many times, often for entire lifetimes, I found you with others. You thought you were very much in love, married, with others’ children. However, darling, you looked in my eyes and there you saw you are past; your body ignited with passion and the theater that was your life ended.

In addition, if you ask me once again to tell you about my life, I will tell you, like so many times before, that you are my lifeblood, that which propels and sustains my life. Through the corridors of time, I, who have perished as many times as I have returned to life, know that I have lived for your love only. My lives without you did not exist, they were desiccated, empty fountains, lifeless deserts, dark, subterranean passageways where my reality was sheer torment. I do not know how long I have existed, when it all began, or who I am. Once again, I will tell you the story of my existence, which is not mine, but ours.

There, many millennia ago, I died as all beings die, after having searched incessantly and foolishly for someone, for something I now know to be you, my love, my passion, my sustenance. In that life I wept, I searched, I believed I had loved and then died weeping tears of love and sorrow. When the last flames of that life expired, of so long ago; when my soul freed itself and started rising, I understood the futility and aridity of my existence. As I was dying, at eighty-seven years of age, I realized I had squandered every second of my existence.

I asked the Almighty WHY? I do not know if it was He who answered, or Satan, his servant, his right hand. The reply was clear and absolute, Heaven and Hell are here on Earth, they told me.

WHAT? I went on. I see many men, women and children living and laughing, there are no burning flames, white-winged angels, culinary delights, or sorrows. If any of this exists, all of them have a share of it.

My mind, little by little, separated from that ancient body, old and wizened; the Almighty or his servant, explained, You know human beings are born as couples. Those who do not find each other suffer, and their existence is an inferno. Those who find each other, unite, and love each other, remain forever on Earth, which is their paradise.

I died that day, to live, today, each life with the wisdom of all lives. I recognize each one of those souls that ignites and expires, those who are born, then die, and live again. I have lived a thousand infernos. The reward is Eden, so ephemeral it burns and consumes me. Each time I find you, my love, I reencounter Paradise.

Immortality… millennia of memories, punishment, or glory?

I

Like so often before in the course of my endless existence, this life began in the middle of autumn. The date was October 21, 1765 and the weather was splendid. The Indian summer was without a doubt the most glorious I have ever seen. On that crystal-clear, peaceful afternoon, I emerged from my mother’s womb and heard mesmerizing music. It came softly to my ears, infusing my senses with a kind of magical balm. Trying to locate the source of the marvelous sonata that drew my spirit towards it, I opened my eyelids, lifted my head, and listened carefully.

For a fleeting, translucent second the afternoon light dazzled me. For nine long, pleasant months, months of peace and rest, I had lived in my mother’s warm womb. I had slept in absolute darkness, in harmony with my senses, God, and nature. As I slowly surveyed the large room, I was amazed to see beautiful, sweet, loving shadows moving around my cradle and my lovely mother like guardian angels or fairies. For a second I believed that I was in Nirvana or was part of a fable or an opera set on Mount Olympus. All the women were gorgeous – their hair blew in the breeze, their graceful mouths curved into smiles and in the morning sun, their teeth were like sparkling white pearls, as their melodious voices sang love songs and odes to life. All those elegant spirits, full of light and charm, gazed upon me adoringly. Their gorgeous eyes, blue, light brown or bluish green, were fixed on me. Their soft, lovely hands caressed my face. All wore pearl necklaces, emerald earrings, sapphire rings, diamond bracelets …

I was anxious to know from where that charming, dazzling music, like comets, asteroids and stars falling through Paradise, was coming. Following the music, I discovered an incandescent rhythm that quietly, almost without a sound, almost as if it did not exist, drifted ethereally through the universe, spreading the sweet sounds of joy, laughter, sighs, and the love of princesses. It penetrated my mind and became one with my intellect. I continued listening to and admiring those enchanting sovereigns, whose lovely bodies must have been an inspiration for painters, musicians, and poets. The wind blew in through the windows, over which were draped silver and gold silk curtains, playing with the women’s gorgeous locks and issuing forth torrents of rapturous poetry, in harmony with time and space. To the rhythm of the clavichords and flutes, the fairies’ magical lips trembled as they sang. With the bright sunlight came the melodious sounds of the violins and pianos – it was like the trilling of nightingales and larks, like the whispered words of geniuses and ghosts.

High in the firmament I could see a beautiful blue sky, almost as beautiful and resplendent as my mother’s sky-blue eyes. The universe amazed me, saturated as it was with sublime, incredible music. Unable to contain myself, I obeyed nature’s command and with my infantile howling broke the music’s spell, which had transformed the moment into eternal love, passion and poetry. I took a deep breath, and released not so much a howl as a song, not so much a lament as a blessing. It was not pain that I was expressing, but the glory of finding me in that magical place. In the immense firmament my voice mixed with celestial odes and together they spread throughout the cosmos, were lost in the oceans of oblivion on their way to infinity.

The pure, splendid air entered my lungs and the music of the pianos, clavichords and violins penetrated my ears. It was then that I understood that in my new life I would live and die for music and that I was now in paradise. Never so soon after birth had I come to realize that my world would be almost as beautiful and incredible as Olympus or Valhalla, where humans commune with joy day and night, where music nurtures one, where poetry becomes a tangible reality and art comes to life.

Never so soon after birth had, I found a place where nature and humans expressed themselves with such inspiration where musical instruments offered a message of ecstasy and joy and then spread undiluted throughout the cosmos. Never had I heard such music, never had my aura dispersed through the heavens with such melodies, making concentric circles of emotion and prophecy as it rushed to join the musical creations of geniuses. I stopped dreaming and listened with joy to my mother’s soothing voice. I looked into her celestial, sparkling eyes, and was enamored of her smile and blond hair. I felt endless happiness when her lovely hands caressed me, and I joyfully swallowed the manna that issued from her full, warm breasts. I rested against her womb, calm, at peace. Just at that moment, I was startled to hear my father’s loud, masculine voice, pronouncing the name of the genius that had composed those melodies. I looked up at him with fear. It was then that I promised myself that I would learn Mozart’s music directly from the master himself, but that from my father and mother I would obtain all the knowledge that fills a child’s life with joy and compassion.

I decided not to worry about anything. I closed my eyes again and began dreaming of unicorns with silver wings and sparkling eyes; of enormous bears with huge black ears and velvet skin; of cats, orange and violet, chasing mice; of pink elephants; of marble pianos with diamond keys; of enchanted violins that caught drops of dew and the whispering of the wind in their strings; of delicious, sweet candy that fell from the moon; of brown chocolate that grew on tall palm trees; and of the musical works that were released from my soul and drifted to the ends of the universe.

When I closed my eyes, I heard my mother ordering her servants to ask the famous French pianist Mme. Jeunehomme, to stop playing.

Prince Karl Lichnowsky would like to rest … and it was thus that I learned my new name.

My lovely mother, however, seeing that I had begun to frown, understood that I wished to continue listening to the glorious violins, pianos, flutes, and clavichords. The genius played on, lulling me to sleep.

I was born and raised in Schloss Schönbrunn, my parents’ palace, constructed on the outskirts of the remarkable city of Vienna. The elegant residence, full of secret niches and fantastic wealth, surrounded by terraces, fountains and parks, all of exquisite beauty, was the ideal atmosphere for my resurrection into life. The majesty of the mountains, the green pine trees, the white fields of blinding snow, the blue sky, and the sparkling lake waters allowed my spirit and body and five senses to exist in harmony with nature.

The intellects of the men of my native city had always praised beauty. It was in the very nature of their characters to do so. The beautiful metropolis was situated among hills and plains, amid forests and gardens, and was full of palaces, museums, salons, churches, markets and shops. The Danube flowed around the city like a huge guardian dragon. Its waters moved slowly, like a snake slithering through the jungle, forming circles that opened and closed. Fountains of life sprang from the river and the crystalline liquid irrigated the countryside and my father’s land as well. Music enveloped Vienna and the landscape and penetrated the minds of the people. Life was full of splendor and elegance, in accordance with the spirit of that bright, glorious age.

From shepherds to kings and queens, from nobles to the common people, from atheists to the faithful, from the pious to hardened sinners, everyone, absolutely everyone, was inspired by the music. That sublime expression of the human soul had become the medium by which love and hate, passion and despair, joy and pain, piety and sacrilege, war and peace, accord and discord were communicated. Never before and never again would so many musical geniuses live at the same time and in the same country the way they did at that time in history. Never had God heard so many incredible melodies, never before had the birds felt that their songs might be less lovely than human music.

Music was a constant part of my existence. I grew up surrounded by all the pleasures a nobleman could hope to enjoy, during an age when royalty reigned over the earth and over every soul on it. In my life, I never knew pain or cold, much less hunger. I was forever surrounded by love, peace, and resplendent beauty. Both in body and in spirit my parents were the most remarkable creatures that I had ever met in my long existence. My lovely mother was the pure and innocent image of a Madonna, the most exquisite jewel. Her tall, thin, shapely body exuded love and nobility. Her smooth hair, light as the ripe summer grain, fell over her back like a cascade of diamonds and gold. Her precious, oval face was always smiling and reflected the extraordinary beauty of a woman confident of her grace and beauty. Her huge, lovely, sky-blue eyes, exuded sweetness, and splendor. Her incredible silhouette had been shaped by the chisel of the Creator himself in a substance like pink marble. She had the grace and splendor of a princess, the sensibility of a saint, and the intelligence of a matriarch. In her angelic, melodious voice, she sang cradlesongs that lulled me to sleep and taught me about life, music, and poetry. Ever since I was a child, my mother, incomparably beautiful, saintly, sublime, brilliant, and fascinating, gave me advice, in the hope that I would find peace and happiness.

My father, tall and strong with dark brown hair, green eyes and long, delicate fingers, was born both to command and to play musical instruments. He reminded me of giants I had come across a long time ago in the Basque country, long before Iberia even existed. His baritone voice contrasted well with my mother’s soprano and they often communicated their mutual love through poetry. From my father I received everything an aristocratic child could need and I could often hear him expressing his profoundest wish – that I might find fame and fortune. He was sparing of his reproaches and at an early age began to instill in me pride for my race and fatherland.

Our house was always filled with servants, courtiers, musicians, poets and artists. Poetry and letters were the subjects of our morning conversations. At afternoon gatherings, we would listen to new symphonies and at night, operas and recitals were performed. My childhood was filled with passion and fantasy. At that time Vienna was not a city of wide streets, large squares, huge bridges, majestic palaces, theaters, museums, and universities. It was like a flower that had just begun to open. My enchanting, glorious city was growing along the Danube, protected by a great wall, beyond which stretched fertile valleys full of trees and lakes. It was slowly becoming Europe’s most precious treasure.

With my mother, I would walk the long, mysterious streets, zigzagging and twisting along the banks of the marvelous Danube. Those walks were the most splendid part of my day, for we were always discovering new hopes and new illusions. My imagination, like the streets and the river itself, moved along; sometimes fast, sometimes slow, at times like a gently flowing cascade, at times like a turbulent waterfall, at times more like the ever-fluctuating music that was shaping my intellect.

My childhood was serene and tranquil, free of danger or evil. Everyone held us in high esteem, everyone protected us, and everyone respected us. I grew up in the midst of a fantastic world, believing that life was an amalgam of illusions and that the whole universe belonged to me. When I was a child, in the spring, after the hard winter, my city came back to life and became more and more beautiful. The weak but splendid sun nurtured all the chirping birds, the whispering waters, and the floating butterflies. It was then that the violins would lift sonorous melodies and serene voices to the heavens.

The summers were always lively, beautiful, and warm. We would always go to the countryside, where the studs would be grazing at their ease. The sky grew bluer and the stars lit up the night sky. During those three months, we returned to nature, ran bare-foot through blue pastures, and bathed naked in silver streams, full of joy and energy.

The autumns of my childhood were always glorious, golden, and enchanting. The leaves falling from the swaying branches seemed to heed the musical masters’ batons. Under their direction the frogs would croak, the fountains flow, the birds abandon their homes. When the breeze blew, the entire forest seemed to be a golden, dancing apparition.

Winter in the Austrian Alps and in Vienna was always frigid but soothing in its snow-white majesty. When the radiant snow fell on the slopes of the huge mountains and a fresh, clean blanket covered every corner of our splendid earth, I dreamed of sleighs, snowmen, and snowy spirits that filled everyone’s life with joy.

When I was, a child life was a series of games, pleasures, and unforgettable experiences; of laughter, songs, and music. I will never forget the pianos, violins and clavichords or how beautiful the people around me were. I will always remember that part of my existence as something marvelous and mysterious, when there was only love and joy, when I never felt lonely or sad. I will never forget how in my father’s calashes and carriages we would ride to Seufzerhalle to listen to the music of the geniuses of that age, or how in our lavish gardens my brother, the family dog and I would chase the doves and swans that flapped around the lake or glided over the tennis courts, the Greek temple and the Ballhaus-Platz.

When we walked through the parks and plazas of Vienna the soldiers in white uniforms would greet us politely. In the shops, we would buy sweets, oranges from Italy, strange fruits from America, and would drink exotic juices, eyed by the young maidens that took care of and played with us and who enjoyed that splendid life as much as we did.

When night fell in the Augarten, we would listen to the music that emanated from concert halls and filled the city. With that joyous music, the Viennese would proclaim to the world the joy and glory of life. In our amazing city, cosmopolitan and welcoming, men and women of all races and nations lived together. Gypsies mixed with Poles, Turks with Bohemians, and Arabs with Jews. On Saturdays and holidays they would all dance in the streets, dressed in their native costumes, as if they were back in their homeland. They sang, bartered, and told the fortunes of the nobility and their servants.

During my childhood, in the course of his short reign, Emperor Joseph II, magnanimous and proud of his city, lavished Vienna with splendor and wealth. The small city slowly began to change, to rival Paris, and to attract artists from all over the world.

Ever since I was, child music filled my spirit and soul. The Kärnthnerthor, a palace full of inspiring statues and fantastic paintings, where the world’s most talented men came to premiere their new compositions, soon became my second home. It was there that I heard the incomparable music of geniuses born in my fatherland or in countries like Italy, Spain, and France. The symphonies heard at the Starhembergischem Theater and the Freihause auf der Wieden was prophetic and inspiring. The music thrilled our souls and expressed all our desires and aspirations. Sonatas resounded with moving clarity, rose to the ceiling, and escaped through the rafters to spread throughout all of Vienna.

Parallel to the development of music, Viennese architects had innovated acoustic technology to such an extent that now the clear, resplendent notes could reach every ear in the music hall and all could enjoy the amazing concert performances. As children, we Austrians saturated ourselves with music. Through it, we expressed ourselves artistically, communicated with, and worshipped the Creator.

In the palaces of Vienna thrived a passion for musical instruments. The common people enjoyed dances in the parks, theaters, streets, and squares. As a child, I watched the young noblemen moving through the salons with infinite grace. Women from my fatherland, all thin, pretty, and charming, had made an art and science of dancing. Portraits and pictures of that age, even when they are excellent reproductions painted by artists with extraordinary talent, do not do justice to the style and elegance of those princesses and their splendid figures, angelic eyes and precious faces. It is very difficult to recreate the aristocratic charm that emanated from their auras or the elegance one sensed even in their most insignificant gestures. The lovely Viennese women looked like winged fairies fleeing from the arms of their consorts, like wind passing over the desert dunes, like the translucent, diaphanous light that falls on church altars, shining down through stain-glassed windows.

Watching men and women of the Austrian nobility dance was as incredible as hearing choirs of angels sing. As they moved to the rhythm of the violins, their dancing and sighs were a perfect accompaniment to the celestial music. The mesmerizing air of that age spread to the ends of my fatherland and throughout the entire world. The common people, our subjects, danced graceful minuets, and their songs became classic works.

The dances introduced all over Vienna showed our people’s elegance and charm. Painting and sculpture reflected the beauty of our bodies and the majesty of our spirits. Our artistic expression displayed to the world our joy for life and our absolute confidence that our future would prove brilliant.

The earth opened our eyes to all its beauties and our hearts were filled with an innate, perfect joy. Nature harmonized with time, the spirit with the flesh. The air was immaculately clean, the gardens well tended, and the expertly irrigated fields produced limitless amounts of wheat and rye. Cattle grazed contentedly and life went on without pain or suffering. From the royal family to the least of their subjects, everyone enjoyed the extraordinary music equally. At that time what is now considered classical was popular and what is now aristocratic was invented and enjoyed by the common people. There was no difference between the musical tastes of the nobility and that of the lower classes, nor between what pleased adults and what pleased children.

From sunrise to sunset, the melodies were not only heard but also seen, felt and inhaled. A sixth sense developed among us Viennese, which allowed us to appreciate the symphonies that brought peace to our blessed souls and filled our hearts with new passion and desire. Through them, we were able to express our feelings in harmony with nature and time.

Only in this way is it possible to explain how – in such a short time! In such a small country! – All those men were born, almost simultaneously, who would eternally be known as the best musicians and composers in the history of the world.

My beloved cousin Heather entered my life when I was three years old. She came into the world in September, in the course of what would prove one of the most beautiful summers of my long existence. The leaves on the trees had turned a lustrous yellow. The gentle breeze brought messages of love and tenderness. The sky changed from light to dark blue. The stars came out all at once on fine, clear nights, lighting up the sky, as if the heavenly bodies themselves wanted to admire the precious princess. I knew immediately that something marvelous was happening in the universe.

Everything seems so ephemeral, so fantastic … Even the birds migrating to warmer climes stopped to watch the prodigious event, the kind that only took place once every hundred years. The castle belonging to the Rasumovsky family was enveloped in a brilliant rainbow, cast down upon us from Valhalla. From it descended the spirit of an exceptionally beautiful fairy that would bring happiness and fortune. She came to live among mortals in the form of a girl with an angel’s face and a prophet’s soul.

That day all the noblemen and subjects of the Austrian monarchy received the Creator’s message directly from heaven, and like the magi, Melchor, Gaspar, and Balthasar, almost two thousand years earlier, they traveled to the palace to render their homage.

Knowing who had arrived, I spent that night wide-awake in my crib. I only fell asleep when I felt that my companion’s spirit was safe again in the world with me.

Even before I was born, deep in my mother’s womb I had dreamed of the beautiful princess that would some day be my companion …

With her I will listen to the music of geniuses! With her, I will dance to the melodies of Mozart and other masters! With her, I will sing operas, odes, and fantasias! With her, I will run through beautiful orchards! Together we will pick lovely flowers and bathe ourselves in dew! Together we will be eternally happy in the midst of wealth and splendor!

When I met my cousin, I still did not completely understand what was happening. I could not fathom the depth of my memory, the extraordinariness of my existence, the brilliance of my destiny. Nor was I able to tell that she would some day represent paradise for me. Yet when I looked at her a tremendous joy and an enormous desire to kiss and embrace the little girl filled me.

When I first looked upon Heather, I could see the nature of her spirit in the depths of her beautiful eyes. At that moment, an inexplicable sense of déjà-vu shot through my body. I felt that I had known her from the beginning of time. I knew that she and I were one, remembered that she had been my companion a long, long time ago.

She would be my destiny and I promised to worship her forever, to cherish her as I would something sacred, to love the woman not just, because she was mine, but because I was certain that we had been created together at the beginning of time. An immense peace filled my little heart; the silence of the cosmos spread through my spirit and overwhelmed me with endless peace and immeasurable joy.

I am sure that when she looked at me the newborn child felt the same things. Her large, lovely eyes, of no definite color, opened for the first time and looked for the spirit in me that she had once known. Her little mouth offered me her first smile and her little hands stretched out towards mine. I welcomed her with a soft caress, just as she had caressed me over the course of so many incredible lifetimes. Unable to tear my eyes away, I gazed at my cousin as one might contemplate the most fascinating, beautiful marvel on earth. In her golden cradle, full of soft lace and playthings, the fair-skinned child smiled at me – that fantastic moment, which only lasted a second, will live on inside of me until the end of time. Her lovely, new-born eyes were as blue as the bright summer sky, as green as the radiant buds on the spring trees, as gray as the wet snow and thick ice on the lakes in the chilly winter, as pleasant as the dreams that sweeten our sleep. When I looked into those eyes, I knew they would always express the serenity of autumn, the passion of summer, the calm of winter, and the vibrant energy of spring.

All my mental faculties had been anxiously awaiting her arrival. I was eager to meet her again. An irresistible enchantment slowly began to spread through my young soul, overwhelming me with joy. I became conscious of a feeling of ecstasy. My spirit was filled with extraordinary contentment. I watched as her aura danced with mine. Even as a young child, I began to experience the love I had temporarily forgotten.

As the years passed, my cousin proved one of the most beautiful women in Vienna. She was lovelier than Michelangelo’s statues: thin, delicate, pretty, and confident. Even as a child her goddess-like lips were fine, supple, and of an indulgent red color that contrasted with her whitish-pink complexion. She had delicate hands and long, graceful fingers, which the palace piano respected and always received gladly. That inanimate piece of furniture came to life whenever Heather played it. The piano felt the same pleasure that I did when she caressed my face for the first time with her beautiful hands.

My precious Heather’s hair was light blonde-haired person and resembled something in between starlight and a cascade of diamonds. It contrasted with my jet-black curls and perfectly framed her rosy face, which was more beautiful than Leonardo’s Madonnas or Michelangelo’s sublime statues.

One afternoon when the royal couple and my parents were enjoying music in Schönbrunn palace, I met Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The genius was twelve years old. It was 1768 and he had finished his first opera. Beginning with his first minuet, finished before he was even six, the prodigy had composed symphonies, oratories and had improvised variations, fugues, and fantasias at countless recitals and concerts. Amadeus had traveled all over Europe, spreading his inspiration and music throughout Italy, England, France and Germany, learning from sensibilities of men different from him, and assimilating different styles into his own unique passions and talents.

When I laid eyes on him for the firs time I was amazed – I, who had seen the creation of time, of the world and of the universe itself. I saw a skinny, blond boy that was not particularly attractive, boys like any other of his age. However, his aura showed something else – it was lustrous and joyful, like his music, with celestial, green, and blue overtones. In spite of his disheveled appearance and simple manners, he seemed self-assured, like a man that had lived in the palaces of Europe, under the admiring scrutiny of kings, queens, princes, and princesses.

At the age of three, I did not know that not many of us were able to perceive the aura surrounding all living creatures. I moved towards the prodigy, eager to touch the undulations that were spreading through the salon to the rhythm of the symphony. The prodigy did not notice as I came up behind him and gently placed my hand over the subtle energy flickering over his head. I felt something indescribably sweet and pure. It was as if a distant, silent rhythm were overwhelming my senses and mixing with my own aura, transporting me for an instant to the world of the fantastic and beautiful. For a brief moment, I felt the genius’ spirit. I blended with the source of his inspiration and power. I comprehended why and how he created those exquisite melodies.

When I touched him Amadeus probably also felt something strange penetrate his spirit and infiltrate his intellect. He stopped playing for a second, turned his head toward me, and smiled. I contemplated his face, saw his spirit in the depths of his eyes, and recognized the kernel of genius in his soul. My mother walked over to me, took me by the hand, and asked me not to disturb him. I obeyed her, though I knew that my presence was neither disagreeable to the performer nor would it negatively affect his extraordinary talent. Beginning then Amadeus and I would be friends, never forgetting one another.

Four years later, in 1772, when Mozart was sixteen years old, he was called to the city of Milan in order to contribute his music to the celebration of Archduke Francis’s wedding. After his masterful performance, my father asked the prodigy to take charge of the musical education of his children as well as of his niece. By then Amadeus had already created countless symphonies, divertimentos, cantatas, and masses. He was famous all over the world – yet he was not happy. More and more demands were being made on his fantastic talent. The aristocracy forgot he was still an adolescent and ordered him to create music that could only emanate from his spirit spontaneously. He was not offered economic remuneration, as he was considered too young. His reward was fame and glory and that was supposed to be enough.

I grew up surrounded by beauty and perfection, by books and manuscripts, by philosophers, teachers, painters, sculptors, musicians, and artists. I slowly began to recall my wanderings through the world and distant galaxies. I could now remember my infinite past and was able to reaffirm that Heather was the reason I existed. As a child, I realized what my destiny would be and I began to remember my former lives. In my cousin’s eyes, I beheld paradise, as well as my past and future.

My childhood dreams in that