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Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Snow Falling

After dinner, we lounge in the reading chairs by the window. As I’m sitting with my feet curled underneath me, Han-Neul unzips his guitar case and starts strumming a gentle melody. I watch as his fingers slowly dance between the strings, plucking notes methodically. I find myself gently swaying to the rhythm of his guitar, almost hypnotically. I allow my eyes to roam his body, taking in every little detail. The way his hair curls long enough that they sometimes have to be brushed back. Sometimes, he would give a slight frown as he concentrates but mostly his face is relaxed. In my mind, words are slowly forming, filling in the holes of the incomplete song. 

Like a flower blooming in the snow,
this is a fleeting moment shared with you.

    Every so often, he would glance up from his guitar and give me a small smile, our eyes locked for a few seconds. I burn into my mind, this very moment. This fleeting night will become a warm memory when I return to Australia. A quiet night shared with the person I admire most.

A faint night of a long ago winter;
like a flower blooming in the snow,
this moment will melt away in the spring.

     ‘Snow is falling.’ His voice comes out in a low whisper. Outside, the sky is slowly filling with delicate snowflakes. I watch, memorised. It’s my first snowfall. Today has been a day of many firsts. First overseas flight. First day in South Korea. First fan meeting. First time in a hotel. First room service. First snowy night. It is all thanks to Han-Neul. Without him, I would be still in Sydney, confused with my life. ‘I’m glad I’m seeing my first snowfall with you.’ Han-Neul pauses from his strumming and looks at me, returning my smile, ‘I’m glad that I didn’t let you go. I can imagine you getting lost somewhere in Seoul.’ He laughs as I huff with indignation. 

Do you remember that winter night?
Snow was falling by our window seat.
We sat with heads rested, feet curled,
as you strummed me a gentle song.

    I rest my head against my arms, ‘Sing me a song.’ He picks up his guitar again and plucks a delicate melody. I close my eyes and visualise snowflakes forming with each movement of his fingers. Millimetre by millimetre, snow is falling. Inside my heart, the snow is piling. Slowly, I let his voice lull me to sleep. My first night in South Korea ended with a goodnight serenade.  

1 comment:

Bathwater said...

Sounds like a moment worth remembering.

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