Lily and the Pianist 1962.

She listened as the boy played the piano, his fingers ran across the keyboard so swift, so smooth, his head tilted slightly, his body moved slowly as he played. She stood there watching, her eyes although drugged, took what she could see, and smiled to herself, her eyes wanted to always be watching and capturing the piano sounds. He played slower, his body stiffening, his fingers moving with a gentleness of a moth. None else stood and watched, even the nurses too busy bothered to stay and watch, other patients like her were too wrapped up in the craziness, but she saw a hint of light as he played, sounds trickled like raindrops. She sighed, he reminded her of the piano teacher she had, but younger, not one to touch. He played on, unaware she stood and gazed, thinking none would stand and watched amongst the half mad half crazed.