it's my thing.

La Pianista - Giovanni Boldini

it's been a long time since i last wrote anything here. some weeks ago i got myself a piano, and started to indulge myself in playing with it songs i did not know. my fingertips felt wonderful, i practiced everyday to the extent that i had worn myself out and fell again into traps of flu due to over-exhaustion.

last night i was playing it again, and a certain thought appeared on my mind, what if i were a pianist and i were to die at that particular moment? how could i bear the idea that i would never be able to touch the piano again? it would certainly be miserable. what if there was this one last song that i could never finish playing?

once upon a time i visualised myself being professional on piano playing, and then it was too much hard work, so i gave it up and resigned to the corner where it and i shall never matter much to each other. sometimes i envied those who could play it, and for the rest of the time i decided that it was not my thing.

but now i want it to be my thing. i've got a piano at home and i can play, whenever i am at home.

i used to say it all the time that everything i touch turns into words, like an alchemist, that's the magic of being a writer, now i wonder how wonderful it would be if everything i touch can turn into music, too.

so here it shall begin... my piano diary. :)

last night i spent some minutes watching time. art is time. everything is time. now every word here is a visualisation of time. time is ever too overwhelming. how many things can we do, with so little time? it could be the decision for a lifetime.