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A musical tale

Once upon a common time, there was a baby cello whose name was Bella. Bella grew up as any other cello would, going to the best schools of music, improvisational summer camps and fine tuning seminars.

Bella worked harder than the other cellos at her music studies because she believed that she wasn’t as attractive as her peers. Her body was a bit too wide, her wood wasn’t properly burled and shiny, and she went out of tune a bit too quickly than she considered normal.

Bella also avoided mirrors, made excuses for not going out to play with other cellos and kept to herself. Her life was solemn, classical and wholly dedicated to the process of creating memorable music.

As she grew older, Bella’s music steadily improved and she became the prized instrument of Giacomo, a well-recognized concert cellist. Giacomo treasured and cherished Bella, polishing her, gently tuning her and providing comfortable resting places.

One day, Giacomo came home to find Bella crying quietly in her corner of the music studio.

“Bella, why are you crying?” Giacomo asked. “Are you unhappy? Have I not been taking proper care of you? Is there something you’re lacking?”

“No,” Bella replied. “You have always been so kind and caring. But I’ve always wanted to be beautiful. As a result, I’ve always envied the more graceful, colorful cellos.”

“Oh, Bella,” said Giacomo. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. I’ve told you about your magnificent music, but I’ve never complimented your appearance. Who you are and what you create are far more than lovely than I have words to describe.”

“You are very beautiful,” Giacomo added. “Your wood is unique and elegant and the rest of you is as well. But more importantly, the sound you create is consistent with your angelic charm, not separate from it.”

“So, I really am beautiful?” Bella asked.

“More than you will ever know,” Giacomo replied “Sadly, you didn’t understand that those who experience you the entire spectrum of your delicacy.”

With that, Bella stopped crying and peacefully returned to the safety of her case. You could hear her humming softly, happily satisfied that the beauty she sought for herself had always been in the notes that erupted from her soul. Shalom.

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