I learned to pipe deep in the ancient forests of the Coastal Redwoods. My tunes echoed through the majestic forests and deep glens, both by Summer moonlight and in Winter's misty shroud, only to be taken in by the ancient trees. It was a place of such beauty that my pipes could not help but absorb the magic. And now you know an even greater secret. You can never be a Piper if there is no poetry in your soul.
Now I live in the Great Southwestern Desert. Perhaps some still, starry, desert evening you've heard my piping on the soft, warm night air of the vast desert? You'll know it's me, by the sparing use of ornamentation, I love the harmonics and simply refuse to guild the Lilly.
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