Wanda was an undecided person. She could never make decisions without consulting someone first. The only thing she was sure about was the violin. She loved the sound played by her violin, but she was never able to hear it. She listened to master violinists; she listened to fiddlers, “roadside people,” and all these dynamic, vibrant players. She always felt correct in her playing, but she had always been longing for that particular sound she had never yet produced. It could be seen in her eyes, filled with mixture of hope and regret.