t was a warm and sunny day in Los Angeles. It was around noon. Cindy was a beautiful woman in her 30’s. She had long, blonde hair that she wore in a ponytail; a beautiful, slender figure; she was tall; and she was a violinist. She was wearing a pink shirt that day with blue jeans and tennis shoes. Her blue jeans caressed her figure like the bark hugs the trunk of a tree. She was alone. She decided to bring her violin, her foldable violin stand, and her violin music in a backpack with her to the park. She thought that she could find a picnic bench in some quiet place underneath the oak trees and near the tall rocks where she could practice the violin. There were not many people around, so that seemed like a good place to play the violin in a quiet, peaceful atmosphere.