My last post was published on 5 July 2008. Which means, I've been away from my blog for five freaking long days. Five days it is, yet who realizes my absence?
Out of sheer curiosity I flipped open the music book my sister bought over from her friend. As to what book it is and how my sister lay her hands on it is another grandmother story so I shall not divulge into it. A fantastic book it is, I would say. And I sight read Fantasie Impromptu for the dunno-how-many-th time, and I sighed at Chopin's brilliance, and I flipped through the book, and my eyes stopped at "Funeral March of a Marionette".
A funeral march is never a happy song, much less to be inspiring. To sight read the original funeral march is definitely a painstaking uphill task, but as notes were heard after notes, thoughts started to drift in.
A marionette is somewhat like a puppet. It's life story is but just a part of another bigger story. It's life and death pre-written in scrolls, and it's mere existence is but to follow the scrolls that dictate it's life. Choice is not an option because for a marionette, there is only one path - the very same as written in the scrolls.
I am one marionette myself. How would my funeral march sound like?
Pardon my pessimism.
