Five years ago a young man met an ex-ballerina during the last month of his North American adventure. Little did he know, it was the start of a love story, which would change him, forever.
Unfortunately, this romance was short lived as they both travelled back to their homes, 10'000 miles apart. As he mourned, he felt the depths of his soul darkening beyond recovery. He felt as though he had lost a part of himself forever . What was he to do with his life now ?
Oliver Goldsmith says : « Our greatest glory consists not in never falling, but in rising everytime we fall »
Despite this, he wasn’t alone. His family and friends gave him the strength to carry on, and look forward. They became a pillar on which he could lean. Only one more thing made him feel better; made not of blood and bones, but wood and strings; The piano - when he played, he felt uplifted, his heart beating a little faster, tears running down his cheeks. He felt alive. Instrumental to his recovery, the piano became a companion.
He bought one score, actually two, started to play the first but never touched the second. Interpreting was not what he liked. He wanted to create beauty out of thin air & imagination. He realized he was destined to be a composer.
Joe Hoster was born.