Music. I missed you.

Today was the first time in a while that I let myself drown in live classical music. The experience unleashed a flood of emotions in me. With my eyes closed and my mind drifting softly away into the serene sound of the strings, I felt my tense nerves breathe a sigh of relief. And I smiled.

I often forget the power of live performances. The other day, I spent more than four hours browsing through youtube for my favorite piano pieces. Though the quality wasn't as good as I would have wanted, I couldn't help but be mesmerized by how beautiful and so incredibly expressive the songs were. And yes, I even cried.

But seeing and hearing the four middle-aged men today--submerged in the pure harmony of their instruments, swinging their bows rhythmically to each other, unaware of the bright lights around them--gave me a whole new feeling. I wanted to jump on stage and say me too! Let me join! Pick up an instrument and participate in remaking reality.

Of course, I didn't.

But it made me think the whole way home about those lonely nights with just me and my piano. Just me and my piano, and a limitless, unfathomable world of melodies, chords, and expressions. It was always lonely, but never empty. I began to miss that feeling.

There is a piano in a large lounge area in the underground student center at Korea University. The room is always bustling with students. I'm too embarrassed to play in front of those people. I wish I could have another lonely one-on-one with my piano. Just me, my thoughts, and my piano.

There's nothing more I could wish for right now.