I close my eyes and feel myself get lost in the music, my hands flow rhythmically to the mellow sound the piano makes. Everyone is quiet, listening to the sound that reverberates inside the dismal room.   I inhale deeply and once more I am reminded of the little things that make me smile, her.

 

It was a fine afternoon; the birds were chirping, the wind was blowing gently and the sky was sky blue. I was strolling mindlessly through the park with a paper and pen in my hand, unremittingly looking for my spot.

 I smile every now and then to some of the people I bump along the way, some were my neighbors and acquaintances 

“Baekhyun!” someone shouts. I turn my head to the direction only to see, Kris my neighbor  who recommended me to come to this park. He comes here every weekend to find new inspiration to his painting.

“Hey.” I said.

“I thought you were busy this week? What brings you here?”

“Yeah. I'm taking the day off. I just need a breather, Oh you know…life.”

“Y-Yeah… I guess so.” His gaze trails to the things in my hand. “Oh, I didn’t know you write poetry.”

Me? A poet? I laughed. “No! I’m here to write music.” I said in a wheezy tone. A poet? Is he freaking kidding me? I chuckled again.

“Oooh, right. You’re a musician. I almost forgot. Sorry…”

“It’s okay Kris.”

“Well,  I should go now.  It’s nice to see you! I hope you find the inspiration you need to finish whatever you’re planning on doing.”

“It’s music.” I reminded him again.

“Right. See you around!”

“Bye!”

I walked a little farther before I finally found the perfect spot. I lie down and set my gaze to the calming sky. I contemplated and let my mind wander to nature. But nothing comes.

I propped myself up and started looking around the scenery musing for my composition.  Still, nothing comes.

Maybe the magic of this park only works on Kris? He has won numerous awards for his works and half of them were made here, in this park. He has been bugging me for the past few weeks; he keeps on telling me to come to the park if I wanted to come up with great ideas for my music.

Maybe I am not artistic enough? Or maybe I don’t have the ear for music? 

No! I must not think this way. Music was the one there for me, music lifted me when my world crumbled under my feet and there was nothing I could do. When everyone left, music stayed and that’s how I started as a musician.

I owe my life to music.

I stayed a while longer with my hands behind my head, leaning my back to the tree trunk. I feel featherweight so I let my mind drift mindlessly to my surroundings trying to clear out my head from distractions that may have been causing the delay of my productivity.

My eyes fall on a woman in her sweatpants, playing Frisbee with her dog. She is running with the Frisbee in her hand and her dog chases her.

Her dog is