a cadence (Latin cadentia, "a falling") is "a melodic or harmonic configuration that creates a sense of resolution, finality or pause.
Will music finally bring them back together for good? Or will music give them their rightful resolution or finalit...
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You cannot force yourself to let go, no matter how much you know you want to. You cannot force something out of your system, no matter how much you don't want it to be there. You cannot just simply loosen your grip and relax a little and will yourself to stop thinking entirely about something around which your entire world used to orbit.
You cannot unlearn music that has become a part of you for so long. The one that you've memorized all the parts to, one that you've performed for years. The one that your eyes have seen and knew all the notes to. The one that your ears have heard and enjoyed all those harmonies and modulations to. The one that made you remember that particular scent of lavender just by the mere glissando of a rhapsody. The one with a cadenza so good and satisfying you could almost taste its perfection. The one you know so well that you know how to do each crescendo, decrescendo and ritardando with each touch of the black and white keys.
How am I supposed to unlearn this rhapsody that is her? How am I supposed to unlove her? The one. The love of my life.
This is not how it goes. This is not how it's supposed to be.
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Her gray car parked in front of the university, on a sunny afternoon, an hour before rehearsal. Her in the driver's seat, looking outside her window, me on her right, both unable to talk. That deafening silence. Is this a pause in between movements? Is this a pause to breathe in between musical phrases? Is this just a pause?
Or are we in the final measure? The final bar? The double bar line, the end bar line. The final bar line?
Sometimes it's the space between the notes that makes all the difference.
"I just don't want to talk anymore, Bin. Let's just get through the rehearsal and the concert." Her voice, calm. Her tone, as straight as an oboe's La whenever the orchestra tuned. No trace of emotion.
"Yejin, it's not true. What you heard.. I, maybe we just needed time to think and.. " So many things I wanted to say, so many corrections I wanted to make and yet, I couldn't find the right words or tempo. Off beat.
"Does it matter, Bin? If it's true or not? You already chose to follow your dream. And I chose mine, miles away from each other. What is there to talk about?" Still looking away, I couldn't read her. For the first time, I just couldn't. No definite home tone or home key. Off key.
