Silhouetted

4.1 A Confession

ANJELIC

Into his ear niche has been whispered many times said “badari” and “angel”. Into the recesses of his ears have many times heard beautiful words. But only this time he heard something say about the tone.

Shown now by Raya's gaze as she said: “Every time I see you, I am inspired when to swipe the violin.”

The view is so deep, not lustful, but grateful. A view full of respect and admiration, not a view of harassing or degrading.

So Anjeli wondered, “So important is my figure on the tone of a Kingdom?”

As a rally he clearly felt appreciated, but was the respect Raya gave not excessive? Anjeli felt like a nobody. It'sit's nothing.

Moreover, she never felt she needed a man, so she always wished that no man needed her. But Raya says that she needs Anjeli to pursue again the notes that had been lost.

At that time Anjeli asked, “Are we not friends?”

Raya replied, “Yes, we are friends, moreover you are a friend who can make me and my violin sing again.”

…

…

“Hai don't daydream!” a pat on the shoulder resuscitated him. Her mother's. Looks like it's ready to go home. “Mother comes home first yes, really you do not want to come with?”

He shook his head, “No, Li wants to help others clean up first, can you?”

“Bby, be careful going home yes, take a taxi only!”

He nodded and looked at his mother who disappeared behind the glass door. It's half eleven. Some officials were still mopping and cleaning up food scraps. The stage was empty, slowly he walked onto the stage and sat on the chair of the former violin quartet.

Still feels warm.

From this height, he could see the cafe with a different point of view. It is comfortable to look at things from a different angle. It is like finding a new world.

Now he looked at the street that was washed out of a glass window. It looks like it's raining outside. He felt comfortable and did not worry about his mother raining, because his mother would have been in a taxi by now. Tired. Actually Anjeli wants to go home and sleep. But there was a reluctance to leave this cafe.

What was?

Now he felt he had a reason not to leave immediately. Isn't it outside the rain? The sidewalk in front is wet. If only he had come out, the rain would not have chosen a place to fall outside his body.[1]

He looked down and picked up the guitar, repeating the song he had just performed.

Anjeli listened carefully, it felt like he was more absorbed in the song than when he appeared earlier. Could it be that when singing on stage he just wants to satisfy the visitor, and now he sings to satisfy his own heart? Does the song mean anything to him?

Maybe the song has meaning for him. Anjeli is sure the song will thank you if you can. Because the song is flattered.

Then remember him now. Only realized that a few hours ago there was a man his age who said that Anjeli was very meaningful, Anjeli could turn on the dead tones again, clink again the strings of his violin, move his lover again.

Should I thank Raya?

Anjeli took a breath. Weight. Looks like he should go home even if it's still raining. He saw the singer was still playing his song. Behind the thin smoke sprinkled by the outside air, Anjeli seemed to find his figure.

VIOLIN

A few days ago I saw a singer concert on a television screen. He was accompanied by a saxophone blower. The singer had a good voice and the saxophone blower could harmonize the sound of his trumpet with the voice of the singer.

But that's not what interested me.

I'm more interested in her violent appearance. Not so flashy but leaves a mark. The violis was as if a small ripple in the middle of the waves. Not visible but there is. Untouchable but can swipe.

That's not the nature of the violin. It is almost never the main musical instrument. Always be a complementary music but always leave a mark.

His gentle style as soft as his music was so triumphant and astounding. I remember the work of Giuseppe Tartini. Opus 18 is called Devil Thrill Opus. The work also contains a dazzling and electrifying tone composition.

The name Devil Thrill Opus itself was created because of its unique manufacturing history. One night, Giuseppe Tartini sleeps and dreams of meeting a demon who plays his violin. Then he woke up and wrote notes in his dream on a music sheet. Then the Opus was created

Unichowo. Very unique. Even whether because it has something to do with dreams, demons or the like—or it can also not—sometimes when this Opus is played then the audience will be remembered, stunned like hypnotized.

A violin and tones could easily be connected with the devil. With horror. Then surely he could be easily connected with other feelings. Love and sadness? Anger and tears?

Before going to bed sometimes I pray that I can dream of playing love with a violin in the presence of loved ones.

But until now the dream has not come.

___________________________

[1] Written with a memory on the sentence in one of the short stories Kurnia Effendi“Of course, if I were reckless to step out with the taste of coffee on the tongue, the rain would not pick a place to fall outside my body.”  Kurnia Effendi's. 2004. Love Guns. Depok : KataKita (cerpen Ears Niches paragraph 8, pp. 13 line 7)