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11/05/2025

I keep Julia's hairtie with me at all times since I came back from the rocky mountains.

Julia says she'll buy me a new apple pencil LMAO throw that one with my ex's name in the trash please

Maybe I won't just for environmental reasons..

But those two weeks fixed me. Cuddling with her every day and night and sleeping in her arms fixed me. Humans need pure, genuine connection. She's a gem to the world, the next Julius Drake.

Being forced to quickly shower every day and eating three meals at 7:15-8:15AM, 11:45AM, and 5:15PM really fixed me. Hydrating at 9000ft altitude also fixed me. I was inhaling water every now and then. No reception no data no wifi except for allocated spots also fixed me. Forced hikes between cabins fixed me. Limited practice time fixed me. The good and the bad created an unique equilibrium in the hills. It fixed me. Learning Hindemith in one week fixed me.

I didn't have time or reason to think about random shit, and I didn't have a chance to brew over ex texts. 154cm of pure love and resilient discipline fixed me, 170cm of chaotic curiosity and a spontaneous planner.

Thank the heavens for Julia.

I live religiously.

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我怎么在梦里听见你喊我小傻子

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The hue of winter is an isolation of light

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30/05/2025

May is nearly over yet still fills me with grief.

My dream shatters me still. The fragments of its memories scattered across my consciousness moments before the alarm bell hits.

I dreamt she was here, at the con, but even in dreams now she is a mere stranger of past passion.

I led her into the audience for a choir rehearsal and gladly showed her the score which I was playing. It wasn't a real score, just like the other nightmare I had about playing for Prictor's choir two days ago. That morning within 20 minutes of real world time I had dreamt of being called to play a piece that I kept making mistakes over, and I had been switched out to be replaced by Eklavya so fast after my playing was flawed. To make everything worse, Prictor was conducting and talking to me through that entire process.

My former partner looked merely interested. In fact, I had such vivid memories of it all yet they were diluted for my sake, probably. Every step I led her down the stairs deeper into the con building I was filled with pride and my longing was redeemed. People looked at us in amazement because at this point most people knew me but have never seen my partner. I smiled with pride and without hesitation told her “你看，我一直都想带你来，你来了全院的人都会说嫂子来啦！快看嫂子来了” and I giggled like the young chorister beside her on our last choir trip.

There was no warmth nor jest on her face. She wasn't entertained, and was embarrassed by the idea that I had still thought of her as my partner. She grew cold and no longer hid a degree of shame and repulsion under her expressions.

She did not claim me. Not even as a friend. She was just a mere stranger who had no reason to be here, and a ghost in the image of my former partner. She did not welcome anyone. The room had now forgotten about us, and everyone had overlooked our existence. I was left without a soul who could recognise me.

My smile was too genuine to retrieve; it froze on my face with no exit. My tears started to pour in such a perfect symmetrical fashion from the edges of my eyes - it was rapid enough to wake me up. They burned me with the temperature of my blood.

I did not know whether I had cried in my sleep. I felt my eyes were unusually dry, and had no idea what I had possibly been like laying on my bed.

Then I remembered two days ago she was telling me about how she wanted to sit down and listen to my choir performance properly.

I do not know. I play so I cannot think. I play so I cannot remember to care.

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My whimpers do sound like laughter.

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grief is pale.

本来不想记录今天。

今天很忙，早上起晚了，好在我导也起晚了于是大家晚半小时改成十点上课。上了两节课，我导一节搭档的老师那边一节。记了很多notes。

中午下课后没有空琴房于是去搞点吃的。从town hall走回音院途中去了QVB想看看有没有人在弹琴。

很多人在吃午���，但钢琴旁空无一人。

我想了想，背着书包来到钢琴前，放下手中的伞与西瓜冰茶。

我用手机搜了Mia & Sebastian's Theme的谱。

刚准备立谱架，发现谱架后面的支架不在了。

谱架立不起来。

于是我把谱架向前推，把手机立在谱架与琴板中间的缝隙里。这样手机就是垂直对着我的角度了，好在我对乐谱的语言足够熟悉，在防窥膜的影响下看着芝麻大的音符也不费力。

我没感觉到周围人的存在。

我来，只是为了献上祈祷。

给逝去的过往一段悼词，给钢琴献上一段祝祷词。

Mia & Sebastian's Theme. 它很短，比我想象得短多了。我没来得及注意它就已经结束了。

我想了想，拿出Dichterliebe.

最有名的舒曼，可惜今天只有钢琴部分的独唱。

My singer will not be here.

I had to pray. I had to send another prayer.

I put my phone down. For the millionth time I played Bach's C Major prelude from Book II.

I looked up Goldberg aria and gently sang through the keys. I played just loud enough to sing. The bass keys were less than sensitive sadly.

有些人走过来拍照录像，有些人在我身后，我能感觉到。我弹完安静地背起身旁的背包，拾起伞与茶，安静地下楼离开了。

我回到音院，心里有股早上到现在都没冒出来的沉闷与悲伤。

其实回到学校后才跟搭档的导师上课。

于是又忘了这份悲伤，我毕竟活得洒脱。

我还是忍不住给她发了消息。

她半夜还在发空间，一直没回我的消息。

我说，我走啦。

她说晚安。

那边凌晨三点半了。

泪水比我的意识先一步摔落。大坝决堤时，人类的花拳绣腿在自然之力面前就像个笑话。就如同石头面具，如同我。石头面具阻挡不了暴雨，也塞不住哪怕最小的裂洞。

悲痛从空气的缝隙中流出来，悄声无息。

我爱你，我想你，我很感谢你。

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POLARITY OF THE TISM!!!

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18/05/2025

今天周日，小雨。要做的事情很多，心里有种说不出的难受。外面的色调很蓝，看完演奏会从歌剧院看向大桥方向也只能看到一大片蓝色。

说不出来的闷。

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12/05/2025

临近冬季了，最近一切都变得好冷。

晚秋的潮湿印在雨水留下的鞋印和心底的水湾里，随着落叶与烟头一同堵在排不畅的下水道口。

今早pw表演弹砸了，一天心情都极其烦躁。

我迁怒于自己的无能，下定决心要把自己的琴技练得坚如磐石，没有任何东西能够动摇它。

后来还是因为太烦躁以及第二天例假体力不支在天黑前提早回去了。才五点就出校门的感觉出奇地陌生。

我买了Regent place新开的那家镰仓蕨饼（Warabi Mochi��，十块钱五大块，撒了烤黄豆粉。

好吃极了。

带盒子走到我常去的港口，转了半天挑了个没人的地方坐下来享用点心时才意识到自己刚刚以为这里人不多是因为太晚店家打烊了。我以为已经十点后了，看到周围刚准备开门迎接客人的服务员才想起来看看手机，而现在其实才刚过晚上六点。

我习惯了在所有商铺关门后的烟雨夜里来港口转。

坐够了起身看到桌子上留了点黄豆粉便拿桌上的落叶沾着雨水擦去了，随后随手将落叶飘到一旁的花坛里。有时人间不如意，却仍潇洒。

最近愈发想她了。不知为何。

也许是冬日将近，南半球海滨城市的潮湿阴冷让我本能性地渴求那具熟悉温暖身躯的宽敞怀抱。她总是暖得像个火炉一般。

我走过最后一家开着门的餐厅。

一轮圆月高悬在我上方。

它刚从黑云里撤出，银辉沾着点水迹散下粉状的光。

我放了一首《一生所爱》，决定在两条电车轨道中间赏完一首歌的时间。

歌声响起，一架大客机从月亮表面飞过。

琴音刚落，便又有一大片乌云揽住了月盘，缓缓敛了光退回深深夜幕中。

我回了家。让我想起月亮的那孩子说她今晚刚好有空。我们连了麦，话并不多，但却蛮惬意地自己打点游戏给对方直播。

这样打了大约三个小时。她困了，我刚好给她看看最近在植物大战僵尸的花园里面种的花花草草。

她从晚上亢奋张扬的聒噪变成了含糊不清又留恋不舍的哼唧和迷糊话。我一愣，没来得及注意就已经在安静地听她久违地撒娇了。她说我坏，我许是真坏。她想要什么，我都只得给她。即使她许愿时光倒流，我也愿献上自己一生找回溯时光的办法。

但我不忍留她太久。

她醒了，又回到寻常的聒噪，缠了一小会便果断退了麦。

她说了晚安，说了好多次。

我本就困倦的大脑被她闹腾了三小时几乎什么都没办法有效处理，于是只是一个人挂在麦里思考刚刚发生的一切。

等思考差不多了，我也点了退出。

可是一眨眼，两行清泪不��意直直从眼眶里掉到了桌上，腿上，还有一部分直接流入了唇角的缝隙。

味道很淡，发了微微的苦，苦到我在吃有甜味的坚果巧克力bar都能尝出苦味和一丁点腥味。

五月。

尘世间一切恍然如梦。

[equilibrium-of-eternity]

07/05/2025

也许我真的想你了。

因为冬天来了。

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30/04/2025

If you don't have time to think

You won't have time to doubt

congratulations to me

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I wish I could say I love you

to the world

to some parts of the world

I refrain from it

it's a curse word

it curses me

it curses love itself

it curses fate

Whatever I hug

dissipates

my embrace the satirical stare

of the negative space between my arms

under my chin

my crouching spine

all of that space

a black hole of satanic laughter

woeful laughter at my heart

bled dry from a lost bet

Have I held too tightly

or have I not held them at all

where is she now?

is she well?

my love is lost

it's a burden that has silenced me

my soul bleeds from all my senses

where her scent should be

there is a bloody smell

my eyes sting from the dryness

it receives from prolonged empty stares

my chin is dry

but they feel

that reluctant liquid

flowing down the corners of my lips

like words I didn't mean

words I couldn't let out

My fingers turn to stone

gloves losing its protection

the clothes on me

a complete armour set on a skeleton

I am lost in the tracks of her memory

she wasn't even here

she was never here

what am I?

Where am I???

All my memories here are with that dear friend of mine

when I walk through streets and stations I think of the shorter figure and that pale face

but where is she??

She's nowhere to be seen

she's nowhere to be found

she won't ever be here

she's never been here

she doesn't want to be here

I love you is a gently leashed signal

barely stronger than bluetooth

unable to travel far

unable to stay there long

it is a curse

it is a curse

I see where she would have been

I feel where she should have been

still to this day

but I know she will never be here

and so I love you

remains dead silent

in the grave

in this Harbouring city of a million travellers

I can never love you

you are not here

I can never love

it has put my heart in a tomb of imagination;

a burial that never took place

no music played at its funeral

no headstones were found

except for a little empty space

in a familiar memorial park

there I imagine it

there I have buried

you have buried

I love you

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Perhaps...perhaps?

Only a broken soul writes?

How I have paused my love for words

long as two years

nothing of substantial substance

until now

I've fallen in love with it again

Poetry flows from my heart

verses the way I talk

I pull out words from my chest

and calmly hold them between my hands

showing the world a glowing orb

of my soul

Where had it been?

Or is it radiating from my torment

like the light from a dead star?

Art

Art in general

Eats us alive

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20/04/2025

Easter

Wish everyone was happy.

Had a dream

about both of them

God I wish I didn't dream sometimes

Dreamt of her as a friend like it should be

except we lived in the same neighbourhood

it was where I grew up in China

I couldn't find my building

she couldn't find hers

We were having a casual conversation in a restaurant/bar not long ago

But then I saw Her

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to know her

but she said she wasn't supposed to know me

her voice was angry

We were in a dark room

on a bed

much like that Christmas Eve

except fully dressed and

she was on an iPad refusing to look at me

rejecting everything I said

I think we were arguing

but the room was silent

the noise, however, filled my ears

and drove me crazy

it drove me out of that room

and I never saw her again

in that dream.

I woke up with a headache

not remembering most of the dream

until now.

She still hasn't replied.

And she hasn't come back yet

I remind myself just now that I do not want a relationship any time soon.

I like this empty freedom

It embraces me with adventure.

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Composers are architects

Performers are engineers

The best are one who specialises in one

but can do the other well too

It's just understanding.

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Lily of the valley blossoms

In May the month of spring

Sprouts anew the land of wonder

A shoot of hope for the journeyman.

TBC - poems to an art song by me

Inspired by 1) Villanelle - Eva Dell'acqua

2) Concierto de Aranjuez Mvt. II

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Sentimental time over

Professional grind resumes