The strings of the violin are to be made by hand so the bow can play well.
I realized too late I suck at making any chord let alone a song. As the knife cuts into the neck of the violin my vow is to never soul.
I hate music, I hate my maestro and he makes me want to end it all. Violinist, shit and more shit.
I hope he lives his life well without me. Chao
P.S. I still have the violin in two. My parents understood my sentiments