youth of the air

It has been listened to classical music in this month often.

As a child, I had some domestic lessons. Once a week, my teacher Reiko as my relative who graduated from Tokyo University of the Arts regarded as the best music university in Japan, came and visited us. She was my piano teacher. She taught me piano in a room where there was a smell of Agarwood, an incense stick, that is kind of a subdued ambience.  I remember the piano room where was covered with a smooth, lustrous carpet like velour of deep dark brown and had a Buddhist household altar in it.

I entered the piano room, I lifted a seat of the liftable chair and sat down next to her. In a way,  reminded me of her name - just like a Japanese sounds would - she had a very clean appearance. Her fingers were very white, slender, and super long.  As my tribute to girlhood, it haunts my chilly memories, which is kind of ''icy''.  Because, I wasn't an excellent disciple in terms of instruments at all.

Anyway, I miss the cold since it's this hot so long.

I hope the seasons change, but it's very hot even though it's almost October. I want to enjoy the transition of season when mercury drops.

I try to recall the winter.

This is the winter of my image, which is a garden stunned by the first frost with clarity, brightness and dampness in the cold. It is like decoction aroma of powderiness from Heliotrope and dampness from Watermelon and Mandarin, a bit wild from musk and a bit woody. A cold wind blows against the cheeks. Bleakness makes us detached, and slowly disappear from the world. Breathing sounds that normally couldn't be heard. A faint feeling comes over.

But, hey, don't us genti just love that. 

It could be beautiful as much as I might never feel that again.

Jazz is possible to be the theme of next month.

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