(a)

The harmonica that night was played was bought after you met me. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

Just after the trip you accompanied me to the sea of flowers, you bought it at a store in City C.

You said, after you accompanied me to the sea of flowers and the town, something has been surging in your heart. It keeps pounding on you from within. You can't be quiet because of the impact.

You've never missed the harmonica like this, and you can't think of anything else.

The night before we set off for the night, the night when the mirror as blue as a lake broke in my hand, you left me and went out for a while. You inquire about the biggest stationery store on the streets of City C, and then you finally get it from a cold salesperson on the second floor there.

At that time, it was the only variety to choose from, and it was the only one in stock.

You say that when this harmonica is brought back in your pocket, you can't play it anymore.

You're in your room, sitting on the bed. You open the box of the harmonica and quietly put it to your mouth several times, but you just can't blow it.

You take this harmonica and look at it in the light.

You get upset when you look at it, and then, trying to distract yourself, you put the harmonica in your pocket and turn around and go into the bathroom to shave.

When your face is covered in foam, you see your past self in the bathroom mirror.

On that very day, your mirror shattered in my hand.

When I look in the mirror and want to take a closer look at my past self, the logic of time cannot be maintained.

So, the mirror shattered.

That broken voice pierces your heart all the way.

You feel that something inside is about to break through the barrier of your reason and run out to you.

(b)

That night, in City C, you barely slept all night.

You've been thinking about mirrors and harmonica.

There is a melody that I don't know where it came from, and it will automatically appear in your heart at that time.

The next day, you saw me sitting in the wind at the window on the train, watching the sea of flowers disappear into time, and you couldn't help but say to me that you had always believed in a past life.

You didn't realize you said that until you said it.

You realize it and you're taken aback, and then you're silent.

You've never played this harmonica since you came back from City C.

But you often take it with you.

You say now you know why.

Because it was waiting for this moment in Bosan.

When you blow the first note in Bossan's cabin, you immediately know what you've been trying to express all along. It also dawns on you who you want to express.

You say that I couldn't blow it because I didn't listen.

You say that in the absence of my listening, cold metal is cold metal, and it cannot make a sound and does not sound. Only when my listening is combined with your breath of life can it break out of the cold shell, feather and ascend to immortality, and be euphemistic and melodious for our perfect combination.

On the very day you said these words to me, you played for me the melody that appeared in your heart on its own. It sounds gentle as water, it sounds amorous, it sounds lingering, it sounds soft.

After you finished blowing, we were in silence for a long time, and no one spoke.

(c)

I'm that cold metal instrument too.

It is only when your breath of life is combined with me that I will make a pleasant sound.

You're the magic that makes me speak.

I have been inexorably silent for millions of years.

It is only when I am confronted with you that I can speak freely and brilliantly.

(iv)

Morning.

A milky mist enveloped the base.

I sat on a wooden fence in front of the cabin with a notebook of English words and a white cover in my hand.

I see you cut through the fog and walk towards the wooden fence.

You say, "Wake up early to memorize words?" ”

I said, "Well, I want to wait and see what the snowy peaks look like at sunrise." ”

We sat side by side on the wooden fence and watched the snow-capped peaks shrouded in mist.

You say, "We'll have to wait a little longer." ”

I said, "Guide, why do you like the harmonica?" ”

You laugh a little. You say, "I just like it, I haven't thought about it for any reason." ”

After a while, you say, "Maybe it's because it can turn loneliness, coldness, fragility, tiny, insignificance, slenderness, all these gloom and powerlessness, into shining beauty." ”

I'm looking at you.

You smile and say, "Do you still want to hear it?" ”

I nodded vigorously.

You take the organ from your pocket and remove the bag.

You say, "This piece, called 'Danny Boy', has a strong Celtic style and expresses the lamentation of an elderly father to his beloved son who is about to go out to fight." ”

I asked, "Does it have lyrics?" ”

You say, "Yes." The lyrics go like this. ”

"Danny boy, bagpipes, bagpipes are calling. Walk through the gorge and follow the direction of the mountain. Summer has passed, and the roses have withered. At this point, you have to leave at this point, and I have to stay. But you have to return, when summer comes down on the meadows. Or when the valley is silent and snowy. I would be here, under the sun or the clouds. Danny boy, I love you so much. ”

"When you come back when all the flowers are withering, if I'm already dead, that's very likely. I pray that you will find my resting place. Get down on your knees there and say hello to me. I will hear the softness of your treading above me. My whole cemetery will be warmer and more comfortable. Then, you will kneel and whisper that you love me. I will rest in peace until you come to accompany me. ”

I listened silently to your playing. The thin sound of the harmonica floated in the cold air. Like all of us, helplessly rising and falling between life and death.

You tilt your head to look at me. You say, "Heart? How? Crying? ”

I wiped away the well-up tears and said, "So sad. This tune. ”

You say, "yes." It's sad. ”

I said, "Is the final destination of all feelings so bleak?" ”

You say, "I think so." We are all mortal creatures. ”

You look at my gloomy expression and say, "But what does it matter?" Only what was once glorious will enjoy a bleak end. Right? ”

(5)

"Look, the sun is out."

In an instant, the snow-capped peaks in the distance turned from pale to brilliant gold.

In the sun, the fog gradually dissipated, revealing the colorful slopes beneath the snowy peaks.

Together, we watched this tranquil beauty.

I said, "I feel like I've got everything right now." ”

I said, "I don't dare to expect any further approach." In this way, we sat side by side on the railing, watching the milky white mist over the fields and the golden peaks of the snow-capped mountains in the distance. In the same gust of wind, in the same time and space, we feel each other. That's it, it's very satisfying. In this way, everything in the universe is in its original position. ”

You say, "Heart, everything in the universe has always been in its original position." It has never been out of order. It's just that we don't often have such calmness and openness, and when we see it, we have never been abnormal. ”

You say, "Keep you satisfied." That's what it is. ”

You say, "Definitely, you want nothing." Even the state of determination is also unwanted. ”

(f)

You say, "What's underneath the word book?" ”

You look at the notebook with the white cover and say, "What is this?" Can I watch it? ”

I said, "Absolutely." ”

You open your notebook and flipped through it for a moment.

You say, "It's a bit like a diary, it's a bit like a story." Are you writing about us? ”

I said, "Yes." ”

Say, "Why do you write about us?" ”

I said, "When we are separated, I can go to the story and continue to be with you." It's just a bridge. I built my own magpie bridge to meet you. So much for. ”

You say, "Heart, I have never left your life." You have to remember that I never left, even when you couldn't even write a story. (To be continued.) )