One fine day, a little girl curtsy'd as she went past; the edge of her skirt on one hand and a violin in another. She smiled at me with a smile that knows not animosity nor melancholy, yet she shed a tear.

Maya of the Metronome; the name Maya came from the local name of one of the smallest birds that thrive in the Philippines and perhaps the world. It's voice though small, is sweet and divine. Born and coddled by a perfect family, in a perfect home, with dreams to last a lifetime. She was gifted in the arts and would play in the park amongst the blooming flowers of spring, her violin. She seemed perfect in every way; but she was diagnosed of cancer--

--twelve months too late.

She now lives in her music, a perfect girl playing the perfect tune for life eternal.

Antonio Vivaldi - Spring of the Four Seasons