The night I fell in love with Chopin. I had never been a fan of Chopin. That is not to say that I disliked him; his work had just never spoken to me the way other composers do. Until yesterday. As per tradition, my parents took me to the orchestra, which was playing Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 1 and Brahm’s Symphony No.3 (what you had is not technically wrong but as a classical player I opt for this terminology). Marie-Ange Nguci, a young French-Albanian pianist was the soloist. The orchestra was (would remove the adjective ‘briskly’ as could imply that she led ‘too fast’ etc.) led by a visiting conductor; (would be nice for reader’s to be given name of conductor) a young and extraordinary woman. How impressive she was, literally dancing, while conducting the orchestra without a single piece of sheet music. But when Nguci started to play, it was as if everything around me disappeared. The musicians, the stage, the conductor... - the audience would have disappeared as well if it weren’t for some people walking in and out of the hall in their squeaky shoes... But the music was too extraordinary/transcendent/enticing/sublime (alternative adjectives to use instead, it’s a personal preference to not use ‘phenomenonal’ as the adjective combined with ‘too’ is overpowering and takes away from what you’re trying to convey. These adjectives are more suited to describe this experience.) to waste time in antagonisation (more natural) . I was no longer in the (would use ‘the’ here as subtle but effective way to specify the context and tie the reader to the atmosphere you are creating.) concert hall. The piano was a (removed as contradicts your later words) stream rolling downhill, at times dainty and light, on others swift and fiery. Always graceful. The strings encouraged her like a wind rustling through the leaves of the ancient and young trees of a forest inhabited by spirits of horns, flutes, clarinets.A moment suspended in time I know I will cherish for a long time.

The night I fell in love with Chopin. I had never been a fan of Chopin. That is not to say that I disliked him; his work had just never spoken to me the way other composers do. Until yesterday. As per tradition, my parents took me to the orchestra, which was playing Chopin’s 1st piano concerto and Brahms’ 3rd symphony. Marie-Ange Nguci, a young French-Albanian pianist was the soloist. The orchestra was briskly led by a visiting conductor; a young and extraordinary woman. How impressive she was, literally dancing, while conducting the orchestra without a single piece of sheet music. But when Nguci started to play, it was as if everything surrounding me disappeared. The musicians, the stage, the conductor... the audience would have disappeared as well if it weren’t for some people who kept walking in and out of the hall in their squeaky shoes... But the music was too phenomenal to waste time getting angry. I was no longer in a concert hall. The piano was a light stream rolling downhill, at times dainty and light, on others swift and fiery. Always graceful. The strings encouraged her like the wind rustling through the leaves of the ancient and young trees of a forest inhabited by spirits of horns, flutes, clarinets... A suspended moment in time I know I will cherish for a long time.

The night I fell in love with Chopin. I had never been a fan of Chopin. That is not to say that I disliked him; his work had just never spoken to me in the way other composers do. Until yesterday. As per tradition, my parents took me to see the orchestra, which was playing Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 1 and Brahms Symphony No. 3. Marie-Ange Nguci, a young French-Albanian pianist was the soloist of the concerto. The orchestra was being led by a visiting conductor, (insert name here) a young and extraordinary woman. How impressive she was, literally dancing, conducting the orchestra without a single piece of sheet music. But when Nguci started to play, it was as if everything around me disappeared. The musicians, the stage, the conductor... - the audience would have disappeared as well if it weren’t for some people walking in and out of the hall in their squeaky shoes... But the music was too empowering/enticing/engaging to waste time in antagonisation. I was no longer in the concert hall. The piano was a stream rolling downhill, at times dainty and light, others swift and fiery. Always graceful. The strings encouraged her like a wind rustling through the leaves of a forest inhabited by spirits of horns, flutes, clarinets. A suspended moment in time and one I know I will cherish for a long time.

The night I fell in love with Chopin. I had never been a fan of Chopin. That is not to say that I disliked him; his work had just never spoken to me the way other composers do. Until yesterday. As per tradition, my parents took me to the orchestra, which was playing Chopin 1st piano concerto and Brahms 3rd symphony. Marie-Ange Nguci, a young French-Albanian pianist was the soloist. The orchestra was briskly led by a visiting conductor; a young and extraordinary woman. How impressive she was, literally dancing, while conducting the orchestra without a single piece of sheet music. But when Nguci started to play, it was as if everything surrounding me disappeared. The musicians, the stage, the conductor... - the audience would have disappeared as well if it weren’t for some people who kept walking in and out of the hall in their squeaky shoes... But the music was too phenomenal to waste time getting enraged. I was no longer in a concert hall. The piano was a light stream rolling downhill, at times dainty and light, on others swift and fiery. Always graceful. The strings encouraged her like the wind rustling through the leaves of the ancient and young trees of a forest inhabited by spirits of horns, flutes, clarinets... A suspended moment in time I know I will cherish for a long time.

The night I fell in love with Chopin. I had never been a fan of Chopin. That is not to say that I disliked him; his work had just never spoken to me the way other composers do. Until yesterday. As per tradition, my parents took me to the orchestra, which was playing Chopin 1st piano concerto and Brahms 3rd symphony. Marie-Ange Nguci, a young French-Albanian pianist was the soloist. The orchestra was briskly led by a visiting conductor; a young and extraordinary woman. How impressive she was, literally dancing, while conducting the orchestra without a single piece of sheet music. But when Nguci started to play, it was as if everything surrounding me disappeared. The musicians, the stage, the conductor... - the audience would have disappeared as well if it weren’t for some people who kept walking in and out of the hall in their squeaky shoes... But the music was too phenomenal to waste time enraging. I was no longer in a concert hall. The piano was a light stream rolling downhill, at times dainty and light, on others swift and fiery. Always graceful. The strings encouraged her like the wind rustling through the leaves of the ancient and young trees of a forest inhabited by spirits of horns, flutes, clarinets... A suspended moment in time I know I will cherish for a long time.