What music means to me

It was a very cold winter. The winter in Seoul is pretty severe. The temperature stayed below zero degrees and the sky was always dull grey, without sunlight. And winter begins as soon as the warm sunshine and blue sky of autumn are felt on my skin, making me feel worse and even deprived of my happiness. The snow piled up on the place where the yellow ginkgo leaves fell ; soon it was scattered and made messy by footprints.

On the way home from school, I looked out of the window. It was my only chance to observe the world. My middle school was located in the center of the city. There was an old palace with a beautiful atmosphere , and there were also newly built newspapers and securities companies along the stonewall road. It was quite a contrast with the old palace where the courtyard was clearly visible over the fence at any time, and with the new buildings in which I could not know what was happening beyond the concrete wall. In the street, some people walked with happy smiles, hugging their love tightly. And some people walked busily, talking to someone over the phone and holding a briefcase. They all disappeared fast somewhere in the city. I was not curious where they were going or what they were going for. I was just looking at a grey sky which hung over the stonewall road. It looked like it was going to snow soon.

When I came back home, I practiced the violin for an upcoming competition. It might have been in two months. Once I started a new piece, I practiced for two months and then I had to have a competition. I was like a machine from the factory that prepared any piece in two months. I was not happy with the violin and I did not enjoy my music at all. I liked music but I had no time to bite, chew, and taste it. I just repeated practicing a new piece, going onstage, and getting a prize for my resume, like any other student. Sometimes, I thought, what if I started the violin at the age when my friends started the instrument? If I had started the violin earlier? For me, those pieces I had to play were always new and my fingers never moved as fast as those who started the violin when they were young. I had to practice more because I felt like I was always behind. It was not easy.

After practice, the room was filled with hot sweat. It was winter, but I wore a thin T-shirt and shorts. Since it gets wet anyway, I wore the most comfortable and thin clothes. I opened the window to ventilate the room air. The cold air from outside entered my small room. Coldness first touched the tip of the nose. Every time I breathed, white smoke came out of my mouth.

There was no movement outside. It was silent. All the lights in the apartment were off at the time. I just finished my job that I had to do in a day, but there was no one for me to play with. I felt abandoned again. I might feel alone.
In the cold winter with no light, in my small room where even the heat has been taken away by the winter cold, I sobbed, wondering why I had to suffer alone.

A few years later I entered college, and eventually I fell in love with music with somewhat various experiences. And by chance, I happened to move right next to the old palace. It was autumn, just before winter. I was almost exhausted from performances and auditions over the past few months, but I stayed

up all night practicing because there were many pieces I wanted to play. At the time, I remember I practiced the Shostakovich concerto. I was physically and mentally exhausted since this concerto was not only very long , but was also filled with the bleak mood of the Soviet composer. I used to soothe my tired mind by looking out the window, a view filled with stone walls and yellow ginkgo leaves.

One day, I went out for a rest. The autumn wind was fresh. Since it was late night, there was no one on the street, but only the streetlights were sparkling along the stone wall. The city was completely asleep. After walking for a long time, I climbed a hill a little higher than my home. Behind the hill was a mountain, and just below it was a palace. It was very quiet because it was dawn. A calm and cool breeze was hovering over the palace. I entered a large square with wooden flooring. There was something like a wooden stage, mainly a place to perform. I remembered that there was a ballet performance for children here last summer. The wooden platform remained in the same place until the summer performances concluded. I lay on my back on the platform. It was still dark, but it was a darkness in which the curtains of night were lifted up and the light of dawn was about to emerge soon.

Actually, I didn't go to the place often. - a couple of times at most. The last time I went, it was with a friend who plays the piano. It was summer, and we were talking about Beethoven. He was quite a famous pianist, sometimes playing sonata pieces with a violinist . So, although the instruments we play are different, we had a lot to talk about concerning sonatas and Beethoven pieces, and at the time we were talking about pieces that I had struggled with.

“Hey, have you ever thought about whether you can imitate a different instrument’s sound?”
“No. It's hard to play even the violin well. But sometimes I try to imitate the sound of wind instruments” “How about the piano? Have you tried it?”
“No, I have not”
“Try it.”
I don’t know why I suddenly remembered this conversation. Until I went back to the place where I talked with him, I had forgotten all about this conversation. On the stage, I thought about which piano sound I wanted to imitate. And then, I was reminded of a piece of music -
⌜Bach: The Goldberg Variations played by Glenn Gould, 1981, BWV 988. Aria⌟
In my musical life, the most impressive musical moment was definitely this one. When I listened to this 5 count from the beginning, it made me freeze. Only Gould plays Aria with this tempo. He has recorded The Goldberg Variations twice during his whole lifetime, I listened to the 1981 album. Listening to Gould's playing, I wondered what kind of life he must have led to be able to play at such a tempo. I always thought I was so exhausted and that I have been enduring so long. But as soon as I listened to this music, I started to feel ashamed. My hardship was nothing.

I stood on a hill a little away from the city. I heard the sound of the day starting. And I saw something start to move. It was still in the darkness, but the day was beginning for people. From afar, the noises of the machines of the cars gathered together. It sounded like calm waves. And the city lights lit up here and

there. It looked like a cloud of sand created by the footsteps of soldiers who were returning home after the war. I felt that I existed in the city where it seemed like I did not belong. I was relieved that I might not be alone.