Read the following passage and mark the letter A, B, C, D, on your answer sheet to indicate the correct answer to each of the following questions
An idea came to me, and I turned off the lights in the studio. In the darkness, I put the cello's spike into a loose spot on the carpet, tightened the bow and drew it across the open strings. I took off my shirt and tried it again, it was the first time in my life I'd felt the instrument against my bare chest. I could fell the vibration of the strings travel through the body of the instrument to my own body. I'd never thought about that; music scholars always talk about the resonating properties of various instruments, but surely the performer's own body must have some effect on the sound. As I dug into the notes I imagined that my own chest and lung were extensions of the sound box; I seemed to be able to alter the sound by the way I sat, and by varying the muscular tension in my upper body.
After improvising for a while, I started playing the D minor Bach suite, still in the darkness. Strangely freed of the task of finding the right phrasing, the right intonation, the right bowing, I heard the music through my skin. For the first time I didn't think about how it would sound to anyone else, and slowly, joyfully, gratefully, I started to hear again. The note sang out, first like a trickle, then like a fountain of cool water bubbling up from a hole in the middle of the desert. After an hour or so I looked up, and in the darkness saw the outline of the cat sitting on
the floor in front of me, cleaning her paws and purring loudly. I had an audience again, humble as it was.
So that's what I do now with the cello. At least once a day I find time to tune it, close my eyes, and listen. It's probably not going to lead to the kind of come back. I'd fantasized about for so long - years of playing badly have left scars on my technique, and, practically speaking, classical musicians returning from obscurity are almost impossible to promote - but might eventually try giving a recital if I feel up to it. Or better yet, I may pay for Dr. Polk if our date at the concert goes well. Occasionally I fell a stab of longing, and I wish I could give just one more concert on the great stage before my lights blink off, but that longing passes more quickly now. I take solace on the fact that, unlike the way I felt before, I can enjoy playing for myself now. I fell relaxed and expansive when I play, as if I could stretch out my arms and reach from one end of the apartment to the other. A feeling of the completeness and dignity surrounds me and lifts me up.
What is the passage mainly about?
