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How many tears had flowed down her cheeks before she coolly dropped to her knees? The pain was sore in his heart that he felt like he wanted to use tears to soothe the wound, but he didn't, probably because the tears were too cold to relieve the pain. Its power therefore cuts the crack wider than before. And freeze all the suffering like that as long as there is no heat to melt it.

I sat in the corner of a narrow room. Infused with the scent of cedar wood The floor of the walkway was scattered with notes written on chords. Some were in tatters because they would be torn apart by my father if he was angry at me. Some were crushed and thrown into the trash when I couldn't play the song. And some were so swollen that they couldn't read the chords because they were stained with tears... Look along the wall of the room, there is a poster of Ekachai.

Jiankul is drawing patterns with his guitar strings flowing on the world stage. That was the hope and dream power that made me learn guitar with Teacher Piyawan, a skilled music teacher, every day after school. and dreamed that one day I would step foot on that stage But then the whole world shattered.

One evening I was carrying a file of music chords.

The Fire Cadenza

Walk quickly into the music room. It is said that this is one of the hardest songs in the world to play. The first moment the right foot stepped into the room, the teacher was still busy arranging the musical instruments, his expression was in a hurry, his expression was serious. But I was sure that my ambition would change the teachers' faces. Teachers must see the artist's spirit in me.

“Teacher,” when the voice called out, the sparkling eyes met those that were calm and calm.

“I want a teacher to teach me this song,” I hurriedly added, handing over a stack of faded white papers. The teacher received it and opened it to look through. After a moment, she looked up. Looked at me with a strange expression

“It's too difficult for you.” His calm voice made the smile on my face disappear.

"Teacher, don't underestimate my abilities."

“No insult, you need to practice more first.”

“But I believe I can do it, teacher.”

“You really are no different from your father. I heard that when you were a child, your father studied music and was cocky like this, right? In the end, it didn't go anywhere.”

“Teacher, how can you say that my father is like this?!” I yelled.

“Well, it's true. Both father and son are equally good-mouthed,” she taunted. At the sound of my voice, I immediately slammed my fist onto the bridge of her nose.

That night, the blood on the bridge of her nose turned into my tears. After my father found out about the incident, he rushed to me in the bedroom. The first picture I saw was of a man wearing a company employee's uniform. The cuffs of the shirt's sleeves were rolled up. Wear shiny black leather shoes. Hair disheveled, eyes weary, he stood by the door panting, then pointed at me while his eyes stared intently.

“I sent you to study. Go back and fight with the teachers,” Father said while still panting.

“Well…it insults me,” I replied, feeling deep pain. I didn't dare say that I had actually used that punch to redeem my father's honor. I was willing to be the scapegoat so that my father wouldn't hate my teachers until he didn't allow me to continue my studies.

“Heh, so cocky! Arrogant!” Father grinned, slowly walking towards the table by the window. He glanced at the songbook piled on the table. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. Every action takes place amidst silence. Father suddenly broke the silence by grabbing the songbook and tearing it in half slowly. Its voice swallowed up the longest and coldest time. Father scattered scraps of paper on the floor of the room.

“If the guitar gives you problems From now on, I won't let you study again.” These words completely extinguished one young man's dreams. I probably won't have the opportunity to play music on the same stage that Brother Ekachai once stood on.

Then Dad reached out and pulled the curtain cord, causing the curtain to slide in a little. The moonlight that shone through the sliding doors gradually dimmed. But I still feel like it's fairly bright.

“If it's not necessary, you don't have to open this curtain. I don't want anyone to see the face of my child who is so low-minded. Selling shit to people who come to buy at the market around here,” Father said sarcastically before walking out of the room. Leaving only a feeling of displeasure and shoe prints stamped on scraps of paper in random order. It was as if his father had stepped on it on purpose.

I slowly got up from the bed. Angrily, he tore the curtains back in place. Using the palm of his hand, he dragged the sliding door open as he sat on the balcony with his knees bent. Wistful eyes searched for the crescent moon under the dark sky. Why is its color so dull? “You son of a bitch,” “You stupid bastard.” “Have you ever done anything to make your family proud?” “Ambitric,” “A waste of cooked rice.”

How many times have insults poured out of that mouth? The lips that had kissed me when I was young were followed by whispers. “Father, I love you.” Have the past five or six years made me that evil? That's why my father hates me like this.

“No!” was the answer I consoled myself. I don't know what made me think that way. It might be because of the photos on the wall of the room. The cedar wood scent of an acoustic guitar. Or just words to deceive yourself? But the answer definitely doesn't come from a shoe print on a scrap of paper. Now my strong resolve has returned again.

I had to prove my potential as a guitarist to my father. At that moment, I glanced over and saw the same crescent moon. But right now, its soft yellow light was shining brighter than anything else in the night.

After that day, my friends and I used to study music together and helped carry musical instruments, including guitars, drums, keyboards, and donation boxes, to a music performance at the end of the market to raise money. The three of us determined to use the money to give me another chance to study music with Teacher Piyawan.

We started by laying down a green mat. Woven in a square pattern Then prepare the musical instruments. Place the donation box on the table across from the fruit stand. When everything was arranged, the sound of the drums began. Followed by the flowing and beautiful chasing of keyboard notes. It was as if it were reflecting a smooth forward ambition.

When I got to the main part, my fingertips traced the pattern on the guitar. His voice deepened. Mixed with the sounds of keyboards and drums, it gives the image of an innocent girl with deep inner feelings. You dance amid sweet songs. Every melody radiated through the little girl's eyes. To the last part, her smile was gentle but valuable.

Just like the music right now is soft but powerful. Suddenly, the little girl in white cloth disappeared before sight.

"This is the kid who fought that teacher." A sharp voice pierced the tip of my ear.

“Yes, it hurts the music teacher and still dares to take advantage of it this way,” another person added.

“You really are ungrateful.”

The sound of criticism and gossip accompanied the music for a while. I tried to keep my emotions from flaring up. I took a deep breath but my fingertips bounced faster and faster. The guitar started to sound out of tune. It ran too fast to support a beautiful sound. Now I barely know which chord I'm playing. All I know is that it's fast and loud.

“That's it. After playing for a while, it became distorted.” The same voice appeared amidst the confusion in my heart.

“This is what they call karma.”

“Scorching!” The guitar slammed into the face of a vendor in the conversation. then bounced and fell to the side The edge rubbed against the ground until it was chipped. She made a face. He bent down to pick up the guitar and meant to throw it at me. Seeing this, I quickly jumped in and used my wrist to strike her in the middle of the throat. His toes kicked the knuckles of his right hand to the point where he couldn't pick up the guitar. At that moment, I quickly grabbed my guitar and walked back to my friends in the band.

“I will make people know what your nature is.” A hoarse curse sounded behind me.

In the end, the three of us sat and looked at the empty donation box in my bedroom. The inside of the box was empty as if we had never held any performances. It was probably because my arrogance was filled with more money than anyone else could put in any more money. Two other friends tried to console me in various ways. He also told me that after the monsoon passed. It will blow past again.

That means we will encounter only good things. But I know in my heart that it's not true. I still haven't heard the word stupid like in the past.

A few hours later after my friend returned. The rhythmic sound of leather shoes hitting the floor came closer and closer and stopped in front of the door. Father opened the door and every event replayed like a movie.

“Is this the artist? I think you're a gangster. Hitting other people all over Is it embarrassing to slam a guitar into a woman's face? My son really has a bitch face.” Father turned around and pulled the curtain cord again. But this time the curtain moved in almost halfway. “Keep it closed like this and I'll embarrass people passing by.” Father made to walk out and stopped in front of the door.

Then the dream of becoming a musician stopped. Having a career like this, dancing and eating like this will not make you rich in ten lifetimes. If I was still playing music until now, you probably wouldn't have any money to spare.” Father left me again with the footprints of his leather shoes that weren't stamped on the paper. But instead it trod to the bottom of my heart.

I slowly picked up the same acoustic guitar and placed it on my lap. It hugged its poor body for a while before conveying its sorrow through the guitar lines. slow rhythm My fingers were tired, my body and mind were tired. I played the same song over and over for as long as my fingers were strong enough. Every time I circled back to the first verse, the rhythm became slower and slower.

For a long time, it was as if this song was pointless. The song, like a cuckoo lost in its nest, went on for hours. Until it ended in drowsiness. Back against the wall Two hands separated from the guitar strings

I woke up again when footsteps entered the room. But this time I felt that the rhythm of walking was not as regular as the sound of leather shoes hitting the cement floor. This time the weight was not harsh and uneven. The pupils widened little by little, the sunlight hitting the eyes until the images became completely white.

The person walking in is "Mother".

“You're awake,” Mom said, pulling back the curtains. Loop the rope and hook it on the hook on the wall.

“Shut up, Mom. No one needs to see the face of a gangster like me. Dad said he was embarrassed,” I said with a feeling of hurt.

Mother slowly sat down at the end of the bed. Look at me with empty eyes Eyes that never show anger Eyes that never judge anyone's actions And sometimes it's like the eyes don't understand anything. Hold both of my hands That touch gave me a warmth that no one else in the world would ever give me. Then my mother handed me a brown envelope with a smile on her lips.

“I want you to go back to studying music again. Go ask forgiveness from Teacher Piyawan, child.” Mother's voice sounded as gentle as ever.

“What if the teacher refuses to teach, Mom?”

“I have always believed that the heart of being a teacher is forgiveness.” The mother and daughter raised their heads softly as they pointed to the sun that was shining brightly. “Someone once said that every time the night passes, The world will always be replaced by a new sky.”

I held the brown envelope tightly. The three or four sheets of paper inside were as heavy as dozens of bricks. Because this envelope not only holds currency. But it also includes my dreams, aspirations, and path as an artist my whole life.

Several days later I traveled to the school again to look for Teacher Piyawan. When I arrived in front of the music room, I heard the sound of a flute lulling the lonely atmosphere. Gives a feeling of peace within the mind This is the unique style of this teacher's music. I walked in slowly. The sound of the flute stopped immediately after she made eye contact with me. She hesitated, trying to say something.

“Teacher, I have repented and would like to apologize to you for what I did.” I started the conversation amidst the silence. “I want teachers to make my dreams come true again.” She remained silent. “Here is the compensation.” I handed the brown envelope to the teacher to answer or say something.

And then she agreed to talk to me. “I heard that after she punched the teacher Didn't she take the guitar and hit the market vendor in the face? Is this someone who repents? She also acts like a thug. Teacher will definitely never give you another chance.” She let out her feelings in a stern voice. “And you remember that. Lotus under the mud

No matter how hard I tried to pull it up, I couldn't. If it's not good, the trunk will break off.” “Get out of here.” Her eyes were cold. He looked like he was trying to suppress his anger and anger. Should I beg her to sympathize or surrender? I should stop! How many times have I stubbornly pursued my false dreams? Pour out tears...

And finally, he drank it back in with courage. It's time for me to pour it out of the glass.

That night, I sat and looked at the moon that was once full of glitter. I don't know if it's still beautiful among the stars now. All I could see was a crescent-shaped black object reflecting through the half-closed white curtains. That's right, this time I decided to close the curtains with my own two hands. But I don't dare close it completely.

Because at least I would be able to see the brilliance of the moonlight when I wanted to admire it again. I sat with my eyes closed, hoping that as I followed his father's path, I would be able to walk with more even weight on my feet. But fate mocked me like I was a clown.

After Teacher Piyawan refused to let me learn guitar and chased me away like a dog begging for food. The teacher then spread the news to the villagers in the market. As a result, Dad was disgraced and fed up with the behavior of a gangster like me. He even went on to scold his mother like every time he was dissatisfied. But this time, Mother no longer had a calm look in her eyes.

Or maybe it was because those eyes were never innocent from the beginning. It's just that it keeps something so deep that it's hard to see. Mother raised her voice at Father. Dig up every pain and speak like never before. The two argued for hours. Eventually, the shouting back and forth fell silent for some unknown reason.

I tried listening several times but couldn't hear anything. Why? It is possible that father may kick mother out of the house. Otherwise, the father may hurt the mother until the mother is unable to respond. Or! Mother...you have already sacrificed your life to one of the blades.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. The image in front of me was a middle-aged woman with innocent eyes. There was a hint of mystery in his eyes. Mother had no injuries or wounds on her body. That means she wasn't abused by her father like I thought. In my mother's hand was a rectangular box about the length of an arm's length. Mother opened the box and immediately took out a pair of black leather shoes and handed them to me.

“Son, try it on and then go out and show me how beautiful it looks,” she smiled.

I turned around and looked at the curtains that were only half closed. The rope girl pulled the curtain so that the ends of the curtain met completely. He walked towards his mother slowly, like a person who had forgotten everything. Forget even the confusion and inner resistance. He grabbed his black leather shoes and put them on silently. Then walked out of this room.

Before closing the door, I turned and saw a black oval object. One end sticks out into a long shape. It faintly reflected the light that hit the curtains. It was so dim that I could hardly see anything. All you can see is the white curtain that remains. And it will continue to exist as long as humans continue to look only for the value they see...

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