Silhouetted
1.5 Every Quarter Random Beat: Raya, Anjeli, Me, and Violin
I
The violin is still going. I stared at the rain with a bad feeling. I don't know why I always feel bad every time it rains. Does rain besides bringing cold, also bring a gamang? Or maybe because I always ask myself: “Will it rain this time every time I see a drizzle coming?”
But sometimes I see the rain coming without a drizzle. He came unannounced and made people run. When shading they actually never intend to save his body from illness or colds. Since when does rain get in the wind? I believe rain is good for the body. Wasn't the rain sent down in the form of pure water that had not been touched by anything?
Why do people run when it rains?
They save his clothes so as not to get wet, they save his cosmetics so as not to fade, they save his prestige because anyone will not look handsome or beautiful when wet. So since when is prestige, clothes and cosmetics hold the first position as something that needs to be saved?
Ah, I don't know. I won't stop thinking about it myself.
“Hey, why do I often see you alone?” he asked while crossing his legs
“When did you see me alone?”
“Often, every time I pass in front of you.”
“So you often pass in front of me?”
He's nodding. I'm pensive. So who is he? How often do we remember the people we saw on the sidewalk? How often do we question the origins of the chicken noodle dealer we talked to?
“You don't have any friends huh?” he asked again
“Indeed you have?” I asked back
She shrugged “I can't just trust people.”
“Why?”
“Let's however friend it's someone else too.”
“Means you don't have a girlfriend?”
“I'm not dating!”
“Suami?”
“Why?”
“Are men and women so different? And sometimes that difference can't be clarified?”
“Maybe..” I murmured while returning to rain.
While the sound of Violin is still playing, if not wrong it is the work of Pedri Ilich Tchaikovsky[1], precisely the tone overture 1812 [2]. Ah, who played it? running violin is like playing from somewhere else and not from this building. Or am I hearing this is just a record of a black disc? Or CDs?
Remembering Tcaikovsky I remembered his famous sentence: “Truly, without music would be crazy. Just because of the love for music we both want to live. Who knows that there is no music! Let us make the most of this opportunity as long as we are here” [3]
Is there really no music in the sky? Then why also rain, lightning, thunder and wind can form such a regular rhythm? Lightning is like the shreds of an electric guitar, thunder is like the thump of a drum and rain is in rhythm with percussion. A simphony of nature that could not be matched. I still look up at the sky and the rain coming. I want to keep daydreaming and reminiscing but I know I still have to tell stories.
RAYA
He has a sister. Yeah, he has a sister. One. Female. Four years with him, and only one day his age. But Raya can still remember her sister's clear eyes even though it has never really been opened. There was still something she remembered about her sister, which was about her hands being so small and always clenching. About her reddish skin, about the folds there, about her tight lips.
“My sister is beautiful.” So he said over and over again Even though he did not really understand why or what beautiful it is. For her, beautiful is female and beautiful is female. I never want to think complicated.
Now he remembers his sister. Like one night he swiped his violin again, slowly playing a symphony that was somehow, recorded in the head and just came out of his hands. That night was at its peak. Cold felt. The wind hole tells the wind is strong, maybe it will rain soon.
Having a sister who is only a day is like having nothing. Like rain, he thought. The rain always comes wet, but then disappears again. His sister was like the rain that greeted him, to then leave again. Then from that moment the rain meant a lot to him, in the rain Kingdom found his sister dancing. In the lightning Kingdom found her sister talking. In the cloudy Raya finds her sister saying hello. Plus the friction of the violin that he brings every rain there, then everything is complete.
Rain and violin. A strange alloy. That's how he thinks. His mother also thought. His friends also thought. But they all didn't care in the end either. At least rain and violin can be a blend that is not too questionable. Isn't there more to ask?
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[1] Tchaikovsky was a great musician born on May 7, 1840 in the Votkins area and showed musical talent since the age of 4 years. He died at the age of 53 on November 6, 1893 at 3 in the morning in Moscow
[2] In the spring of 1880, Pedri llich Tchaikovsky visited his best friend Nicolas Rubinsten, director of the conservatory in Moscow, to introduce the latest score was the famous 1812 overture inspired by the Napoleonic raids. His work was done in poor physical condition. It was directed by Nepravnik, performed a few months later in a small and ugly concert hall in Moscow. The 1812 overture show ended in a very sad failure.
[3] Tchaikovsky, in a letter addressed to Senora von Meek
