I work in the arts building of my college,

In the basement.

Surrounded by violin practice rooms.

The eternal torment of Sisyphus comes into perspective.

A musician, condemned in Tartarus to endless scales progression. Just as the end is reached, by some trick of fate and vengeance of gods, all progress is lost and the musician must commence his tortuous journey again.

Last night a flautist, a deviant, broke free. Used the sacred practice space reserved for strings.

While I applaud her bravery, at the time I could only wish for the eternal scales of the violins.