The Conservatory’s always nothing much minus common sense. 

Come out and play, practice, sample finding out 
the masked hostility and indecisiveness of national cultures  
backed up with inexact and multiple scents of honor, crooning sounds  
from what we were doing before [give me a sec..] took hold,  
instantly endorsed as group identity. 

Identity and hardened m.o.’s from silences and retakes 
and feral feelings immersed in a prolonged piano lesson.