Life told by Kosei Arima

2. Friend A

The dryness of the air. The scent of dust. Beethoven, violin sonata number nine. The chroitzer. It's been a while since I've heard a performance in the flesh. Even so, it's giving me goosebumps. It's the set piece. The chroitzer. No question, but. It's Beethovens chroitzer, but this piece no longer belongs to him. Here and now, she owns it, down to its soul. She's tempestuous, and capricious. I can't read her. But, this girl, she's beautiful. The violinist who enchanted us all, comes running towards those who await her. Prancing through the crowd. Laden with flowers. It's like, a scene straight out of a movie. It's a moment pulled straight off of a movie screen. The anjenue the hero and friend A. Before I knew it, Under the reds and yellows of the sunset, Her song takes root in me, And blooms anew. Over , and over, and over again, and every time I hear it unfurl, all the things my mother left me just scatter on the wind. I want to hear her play again, but then I don't. When you appear, it's what I want. And what I dread. This feeling I have. What do they call it? Maybe I've forgotten. Or never really knew. You live within a veil of spring.