Planet Blue Flight Journal
When weary of sogginess, ride the wind and soar
We are not as lucky as the little prince, in that our planet sees only one sunset a day;
But it’s enough of a blessing for us to hold and cherish this daily special moment at just the right period.
I am not as lucky as Saint-Exupéry, who reads the whispers of nature in a turbulent mass;
But it’s enough of a blessing for me to — without being confronted by the wordless crises of the wilderness alone, just with the roar of jet engines — catch a glimpse of the heavens, that people in the past had dreamt of.
When weary of sogginess, ride the wind and soar. There’s always a clear sky above the clouds.
| Music and animation | Flight_Journal.mp4(41.5 MiB, 11:59, 1920x1200) |
| Score | Flight_Journal.pdf(1.3 MiB, 26 pages) |
| MuseScore 3 document | Flight_Journal.mscz(161 KiB) |
Sounds are directly exported from MuseScore with lot of imperfections are present, please forgive me. My sole resoultion for this year is to stop pressing myself, hence better done than perfect this time.
On a side note, you might be able to spot the recurring “sweetfish motif” right there.
Dedicated to my twenty-fourth sunset.
“I am a part of all that I have met”; starting from life itself, it seems that it is the countless unrequitable offerings that interwave and make up me.
Just as the sudden heavy snowfall on the night before the birthday, myriad snowflakes making me dancing with them: “Hey, would it be easier to feel the sky, with us by your side? Will you try some more?”
I was dragged back from the brink of shelving this composition. With tens of circles of footprints in the snow at midnight, surrounded by the cheers of the snowflakes, I finally finished the second-to-last section, the waltz, and then the finale.
The snowflakes are a nature’s gift to me. My world seems to snow similarly quite often, with all kinds of fleeting, uncatchable snow.
Then, let me return to the world all that has been gifted to me. Earnestly live the life, and in earnest, blow the snowflakes that have come to me.
Blow, into clouds that have descended to the ground. As if they could be ridden back to the sky. My guest, will you come along?
