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Chris

Chris rips up her crumpled staff paper and bangs on the piano for a few seconds. “ !” she shouts under it. “Why do I have to compose and notate and arrange everything to write music? Why can’t I just draw what I feel, and have the stupid flautists play that?”

“You can’t,” points out Katrin, “actually draw.”

“Exactly! I can compose well, if I try, but my drawing would be shit regardless!”

Katrin shrugs. “Constrained creativity produces stronger results.”

“This from you? You’re an extemporaneous free-verse spoken word poet!”

“Yeah,” sighs Katrin, “but what I really want to do is direct.”

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