Love autism - and with the days of Prokofiev（四）

I think they usually avoid some of the things that is likely to be a pleasant experience, and even mystical experience, I have not had experience. Summer's evening, we in a piano room, Prokofiev school sound, I put away the sub-spectrum is also ready. Next, in Prokofiev's cello sound to start a different kind of a narrative, a few small post-holiday, the piano sound is also incorporated into the background block. I have too much 提琴普罗科菲 Nazarbayev quietly watch the pair of slender hands, his long Diming kept trembling voice in the wrist, trill fingering as was advertised wipe it on the strings like; his back of blue veins protruding from the body and head corresponding norm, in any case, he is very professional look. He has been very professional, but resistance did not leave a marriage where the original unit to the temporary school and shortly after I left here, and he left. He was abroad when I have received his greetings, but I can not remember his real name, and I laughed at him on the phone side, asked him if he brought the art of the Brothers in Paris. But that moment, I heard the sound of his tears ... ... Prokofiev way I always will be, a vague image, until I almost do not hate him, may i can never cross, like an impregnable defense. So we played together in the Prokofiev "Cello Sonata" first movement of the time, there is a concern and warm as wan a dialogue:

: "Spring Ivy always mature, you see the seeds of poplars in the drift, even they all know how to find the direction of home, why do you not?"

: "Perhaps, perhaps not, I do not know, you know?"
: "I know, I know, refuse to love, is rejected youth, is guilty."

: "It guilty of it."

: "Why guilty?"

: "Why is that not wrong?"

: "But I love you."

: "But I am guilty of."
... ...

This question, immersed in that voice - Prokofiev "Cello Sonata" first movement. For many years, I have not forgotten those voices, I said I met more than once and those voices again, because life, as to write articles, I have selflessly me to them, the same time, thousands of times listen, I finally cracked life's answers: So, are immersed in the love of my life, the life in love with the cello, in those sounds, I completed a perfect and experienced love again, but I refuse to think of personal experience For example, South-South, Prokofiev, my rock band, and other colleagues, friends, youth in the face of our common experience has been as pure incomparably warm, too sad, too painful, but never any I can make out really tall maze of deep, I have been quiet in the maze alive, there is I will never refuse to love and intimacy of the quiet place.

That immersion in the cello sound in question, until many years later I still remember clearly, but, people who question him in the end What was hypocritical to say I forgot, I have always told him: Prokofiev. I am a person who refused to joy, which the early youth to the people, there is too much reason, that perhaps I would not, could not tell the reason, even fatal, to those grounds that even I can not Syria stated clearly, even I do not know, hard to understand the world. In fact, in dialogue with those voices, I always felt extremely dizzy, flawless and panic. The first movement's exposition mysterious, sad, broken chords and the cello of sorrow common coagulation, gradually exudes vitality and a number of scattered light, after that, a little push in recent musical climax, into those voices, I feel that good, better be stifled. Sometimes, I do not play the piano, just listen to Prokofiev practice, he repeatedly pulled in the first movement exposition, I looked up, the sun instantly surrounded me, warm, dry, warm to the bone, heart, less humid , and red soup has weakened a little impression, and I suddenly felt I seem to breathe, I was still alive. Next, spread an trembling wholeheartedly, as if touched with a finger-like, so happy, but also so sad, then, I thought: what should be to face, accept, or into.