Dear reader,
Yes, those are doughnuts.

Let us set the stage:

You’re here in a concert hall, and it’s probably 8pm, Friday or Saturday. You’ve come to listen and to feel the music, to find intrigue and be entertained. We’re the quartet of musicians out on stage. We give you an overflowing glass, and it’s at once a cup and a mirror and a window. We play then we bow, and you applaud, and we both leave. It was fun, even wonderful, and it’s late and you’re exhilarated, and you’re going to take the dog out, you’re going to sleep. As we exit the stage, we don’t turn to see you out in the hundreds of seats filling the hall. We can’t hear you and we won’t know you, and hey, maybe that’s okay. We’ve stamped each other’s hearts by sharing living art and a few meaningful moments in time. Beauty now in hand, we part ways—and as many stories go, we may never meet again.

That story is a classic. Something you read once, or once in a while,
and it just might change your life.

But here’s the thing. Ours isn’t that story.
We’re making chamberly music, and we’re here to stay.

We’re in a room somewhere (anywhere) with good acoustics. You’ve come as before, to listen and to feel and find intrigue and be entertained; we offer you the same overflowing glass and it’s still a window to another world, a mirror to your inner life, a cup of wonder and beauty and love. We make music, and this time, we talk with you. This time we’re hosting a dance class with live music; we’re playing live music with a local storyteller. This time we invite you to sit next to us if you like. Maybe you rest or maybe you paint or write or study; maybe it’s a meditation or a yoga class or something entirely new. It’s over now, and we bow, and this time we don’t leave. Now we’re learning your name and where you’re from; we get to talking and learn that your cousin’s best friend owns the coffee shop we got these pastries from! Maybe you tell us you feel more rested after being here, or you met some new friends. You’re eating doughnuts; we’re eating doughnuts. It’s an intimate space. This is probably a folding chair and sofa kind of place. We see you, we hear you, and—gratefully—we know you, now.

Everyone needs music, says musicians.
And now we’re also saying, Everyone needs friends.