Today, I was wandering around with a friend on a music shops street, 汾阳路, fenyanglu. While he was looking for a guitar case, the one and only thought in my head was practicing my passion. Again. More than one month since the last session, it is getting very rare. I used to play several hours a day. In a bad experience with a kidney stone, the pain was so fierce that I couldn’t feel the top of my fingers anymore.
It may sound stupid, but at that time, I thought a lot about my piano.
The contrast between culture and art couldn’t be more intense. On the right side, a classic little Chinese street with people shouting at each other, selling groceries and cars riding on the boardwalk. On the left side, a violinist in a 7 square meters shop rehearsing a mild melody. Alone. Content.
And finally, I played. In the end, no satisfaction. Maybe a bit, but no conclusion to the feeling I was craving. Maybe because I wasn’t feeling alone enough. Recently, my zone is very hard to find.
Passions, love, bounds, experience
Always, forever, the most, important
Aren’t these everyone’s clues of existence ?
Why do they taste so grey at the moment ?