After several hours of violin practice, we had lunch together, and I was given some free time. Lucy and Marie returned to their rooms, probably immersing themselves in the study.
It felt restricting to stay in the castle, so I went out to the garden for a walk. This was the back garden, and fortunately there wasn't any horrid statue that demolished the life of nature.
Green. A spectrum of green colours. I could not really tell minute colours apart. The greenery stretched into the forest and took a darker shade. I looked into the path, dwelling in the transformation of the green into the black. I imagined a sparkle in the black, and how a train would gear its way towards the opening.
I feel dizzy. It's rare for me to feel dizzy when I am imagining things. When we sleep, we let our minds run wild to release it from the restrictions of hegemony. This is the way for our minds to be in peace. So why? Maybe it was the carriage ride last night. It was the same nausea.
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White Violin
رعبThe white violin. An instrument that hasn't been finished with a soul. What does it mean that I cannot resonate with it? Join me in this mind-boggling, psychological horror about two violin players, a maid and a gothic castle .
