When I was eleven years old, I heard the cello played for the first time. That was the beginning of a long and cherished companionship! A trio had come to play at a concert in Vendrell – a pianist, a violinist and a cellist. My father took me to the concert. It was held at the small hall of the Catholic Center, with an audience of townspeople, fishermen and peasants, who, as always for such an occasion, were dressed in their Sunday clothes. The cellist was Josep García, a teacher at the Municipal School of Music in Barcelona; he was a handsome man with a high forehead and a handlebar mustache; and his figure somehow seemed fitted to his instrument. When I saw his cello I was fascinated by it – I had never seen one before. From the moment I heard the first notes I was overwhelmed. I felt as if I could not breathe. There was something so tender, beautiful and human – yes, so very human – about the sound. I had never heard such a beautiful sound before. A radiance filled me. When the first composition ended, I told my father, “Father, that is the most wonderful instrument I have ever heard. That is what I want to play.” << less