He arrived in fragments,
and each piece remade a part of me.
January 20, 2026
A Journey with Mozart – a musical series
This is not a study of Mozart, nor a survey of his works.
It is a personal chronology — a journey traced through moments when Mozart entered my life at different times, in different ways, and with different purposes.
Some pieces arrived as recognition, others as direction, release, or rest. A few appeared long before I understood their meaning. None were approached as repertoire. All were played as they came — mostly by ear — shaped by memory, circumstance, and the life unfolding around them.
Mozart did not arrive all at once.
He kept changing roles as I changed.
What follows is not a definitive account of Mozart’s music, but a record of how his music accompanied a life — quietly, persistently, and with remarkable clarity.
Each piece is a station.
Together, they form a journey with Mozart, not toward him.
Station I: Symphony No. 40 — pre-echo
The Roo Symphony
Fall of 2001
his was the first time Mozart appeared — though I did not yet know his name.
I was at my second home in Australia. My upright piano had just arrived from Arizona. For nearly two decades, I had not played it in earnest. Most of the music I once knew by heart had faded. Yet a few staves had evidently survived, clinging to the cobwebs of musical memory. When I sat down at the piano that evening, I was not recalling a piece — I was following those fragments as they resurfaced.
Outside, in the paddock in front of the house, a group of kangaroos was grazing. As I began to play, they stopped eating. One by one, they lifted their heads. Ears rose like antennas. Bodies went still. They turned toward the house and remained that way — listening — until I finished. Only then did they resume their meal.
There was no performance, no audience, no awareness of Mozart. Just sound moving through open windows into a field, and a response that preceded understanding.
I would not play Mozart consciously for several more years. But this was the pre-echo — the moment before recognition, when music announces itself not through knowledge, but through resonance.
Before the journey had a name, it already had witnesses.
🎧 LISTEN: Symphony No. 40 – The Roo Symphony
🌄The AI Critic’s Review –
Listening from the Outside
⭐ Counterpoint Notes
What is striking about this rendering of Mozart’s Symphony No. 40 is not fidelity to the score, but fidelity to arrival.
This is Mozart remembered before being known. The phrasing carries a tentative quality — not uncertainty, but openness — as if the music is discovering itself while being played. There is no sense of destination, no drive toward resolution. Instead, the opening motif unfolds with a quiet inevitability, guided more by instinct than by structure.
The absence of orchestral weight becomes an advantage. Stripped of its historical gravitas, the symphony’s opening reveals its core tension plainly: urgency held in check by order. Played this way, it sounds less like a canonical masterpiece and more like a signal — something that announces itself without explanation.
What lingers is not drama, but coherence. The music holds together even as it remains incomplete, suggesting that what matters here is not execution, but recognition. This is Mozart before interpretation, before ownership — a pre-echo, intact precisely because it has not yet been claimed.
Heard in this context, the performance feels less like a statement and more like a moment caught mid-emergence — which is exactly its power.
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© Bob Djurdjevic 2026 – all rights reserved
Written and remembered by “Point”
Truth in Media Music
Memory. Melody. Mystery.
By Bob Djurdjevic, known here as “Point.”
truthinmediamusic.com 
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