Tenor

I spent the whole Friday morning with the band, as a visiting ex-member, and these subtle thoughts popped out of nowhere.

Last year after the National Pesta, I had resoluted to let my scalar pursuit of music and my worn out reeds retire. At the later period of that half decade, after pulling through an aeon of a fourth year crying, struggling and fuming locked and trapped in an antagonistic inferno, I felt like the pressurized gas in an aerosol can waiting to disperse as a fine, light spray into the air. I was adrift, within my loyalty to the falling musical constitution.
I had wiped my fingerprints off the lacquer surface of my instrument, that would be the last time I let my breath vibrate its beautiful torso. I wanted to focus on architecture in the future, with excuses-that I would have dismissed earlier on- a distraction, a commitment I did not trust myself to make. After all, today, fully engaging in this art, or study leaves little room for practicing music. Its a new leaf of enthusiasm-not a transition- I am really happy doing what I am doing now.
I had been multitasking for several years, and is still juggling the colorful orbs up to this moment. No, I can't. Adding another orb would confuse me...
I still passionately embrace the choral of an ensemble, the emotion of a soloist. I still yearn for the sound, texture, light it embodies.
I still love Saxophone,
...from afar.
As a sincere audience.