Scene to warm a cold and windswept night

This is Sonia's mother before she was Sonia's mother. I asked to borrow the portrait because I think it goes very well with this piece below (sorry for the angry Beethoven face, but you'll hear Glenn Gould).

I liked Sonia the day we virtually met. We have so much in common. She loves dogs and I love dogs. Her dog died the year my dog died. She works in communications, I work in communications. She speaks English, I speak English. She speaks Portuguese, I speak English. She lives in a tropical paradise, I speak English. Her house cozies up to a Brazilian seashore, I speak English. Well, this could just go on and on forever, couldn't it.

Her mother was an accomplished pianist. Sonia remembers her mother playing many pieces of course, but most of all, Scriabin. Scriabin! I must say, it makes me swoon to think one could have a mother who would gather the family in the drawing room in a house in Brasil and play for them Scriabin.

Thank you for letting me borrow your mom and your blog, Sonia. Obrigada.