There are too many sounds in this world. There are noisy sounds, sweet melodies, and the roar of machines coming from the market... Too many.
This summer, there are too many sounds in grandma's town:
The sound of cicadas chirping, the roar of heavy rain, the crisp sound of fish emerging from the water, the clink of chopsticks, the wind blowing leaves, the speeding cars...
There are more, the sun burning the earth has a sound, the clouds floating has a sound, the flowers blooming has a sound, every green leaf is rubbing shoulders with each other, secretly telling its own story; the tears shed will also cry, the skin that touches will exclaim, the corners of the smiling mouth have a sound, the hands holding each other have a sound...
I want to hear everything, greedily want to collect everything, like an ignorant child.
But when I close my eyes, everything is quiet and I can only hear your whisper. I can only hear your whisper. Because it's you, I want to remember every detail of your voice: which word is lighter, which word is heavier, the hesitation in that sentence, the pain in that sentence...
I want to close my eyes, imagine your expression, and let the memories emerge bit by bit, over and over again.
So please, wait for me to close my eyes, and then call softly.
Intention: self-orientation and identity