Kora-chwan
Legacy Name: Kora-chwan

Since I remember myself I have always played the violin. I grew up in a family of artist and according to them "music builds up character", and they were right. I can't remember times when I wouldn't play the instrument. The violin was part of me; I could never have enough of the divine sounds it produced. I remember when I was young, before I could even learn to read and write, I would sneak in the office and copy all the music sheets I could find. Until I started memorizing them, and then, when I start to play, I would just close my eyes and in the midst of the darkness I could see the notes outline, spread on the lines. I would play the same classical pieces over and over again until my hands will get used to the movements and then I would just go with the flow of sound. For me this was divinity; the sounds of the violin would be my objective correlative (as T.S.Eliot would say): when I was happy the music was fast and cheerful, leading you into a dance, illustrating the sunniest days of your life. But when I was sad, the gloomy sound would dominate your heart and cause it to shrink under the dreadful emotions; I would cry, and so will the violin.

Then I grew up, my playing would drastically improve and once it reached a certain level, close to perfection, my perants decided I should enter completions; and after my first one my whole view changed. It all started with my first award which was for 5th place. I was told that this is unacceptable for someone with such talent. I started going to violin tutors, I was made to memorize sheets regardless if I liked them or nor, I had to write my own pieces and to perform them. I was constantly competing, I had to become better. The stress was taking over me, and I forgot how to appreciate music. It was no longer a magical sound, it all had an explanation, it had methods, it was like a wild animal that I have tamed. I never realized how it lost its beauty.

The stress was taking over and my world could be read in a day-schedule: breakfast, practice, lunch, practice, dinner, practice, bed; and some days I would have booked flight tickets for foreign countries with unknown cult and language.

But then tragedy happened. I remember it like it was yesterday. We were driving from the airport towards the hotel we were staying for the competition. It was a rainy day and the sky was pitch dark. The only light was coming from the numerous cars. My everyone was talking about the upcoming contest, they were discussing how I should be dressed, what i should perform, who is the competition and so on, until from a mere conversation it grew into a scandal. Their voices became louder and louder and they started shouting over each other. I was tired, I was bored. I was all the same, they seemed unhappy now when I think about it, but back then I everything was dull to me. And then it happened. For just a second my whole world turned upside down. I felt my body swing with the car's, the lights flashed in front, everyone inside screamed and the last sound that I heard was the long beep of the vehicles around us.

I woke up in the hospital. Everything was white and shinning from the sunlight outside the window. I could smell the aroma from the white roses next to my bed - my favourite flowers. It was bright and silent. Divine silence. I looked around and focused a familiar face on a chair in the distance - my mother. She was crying but I couldn't hear her. I rose my hand with a lot of effort. It was heavy. She noticed that I'm awake and came to grab my hand before falling down. She forced a smile but her tears were still sliding down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to say something but then closed it and burst into tears. She run out of the room and bumped in my father who was just entering. He pulled a three-legged chair and sat next to me. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He had cried as well, even if he tried to hide it, I knew it. He took a deep breath and grabbed my hand. We whispered something which seemed like "I'm sorry" but I couldn't hear anything. And then I knew...

Strangely I felt relaxed. The dress was gone, the noise, the shouting, the screams, everything... Now I could hear only silence. I was unable to play my violin again but I wasn't sorry. I may not be able to hear physically, but in my head I could recall all the music I once loved and performed, the sounds that were innocent and pure, when I was playing for my own entertainment. It was hard, I must not lie, but it made me appreciate life as it is, and opened my eyes to other forms of art. I found a way to express myself not by music but by words and paintings.

But there is one thing I will always miss and that is Virelai's music.