Louise and her blue guitar

Louise takes her blue guitar and runs to the back of her house. Words don't come out of her mouth, but still her lips move.
The guitar cries sorrowfully, the pain that flows from Louise's heart through her fingers to the instrument...

She sits there, in the grass, and hopes music will take it away... and she sings, sings, sings. There is nothing Louise can do, but learn to accept Nature as it is and try to make the maximum out of the minimum.

All she wants is to be quiet. Silent. The only thing to sound is the guitar now.
She doesn't feel like talking. Talkative Louise is now mute.
The only sound that joins the moans of the guitar is the sound of her heart, falling into pieces. Glass. Cuts deeply, bleeds incessantly.

Louise doesn't want to talk. Not now.