A Bittersweet Life
It’s very impressive how a single piece of music is able to determine one’s subconscious state, moving his heart and soul.
A disciple asked his master, “Do the leaves flow or is it the wind?” His master replied, “No, it is the heart and the mind.”
Just like how the movie A Bittersweet Life (2005) brilliantly portrayed, I saw how the leaves flowing by the air while I was driving from work and somehow I could feel the air brushed on my face even though the windows were all closed.
And I still precisely recall the magnificent notes of its powerful score. One blood-bathed story about mobs where you witness such horrific ruthless crime but it ironically has got a really splendid score.
It interprets a loneliness that drives you dreaming of warmth, a kind of warmth you cannot get from tools you can easily buy. It takes utilizing your eyes, heart and soul to accomplish the emotion you’ve been dying to feel, no matter how deniable you make your mind up.
That the truth of life is finally all about being in love. Say it in another language, word, writing … when you are invoked at the idea of staying, of the warmth of sunlight, of beautiful calming music, of tears falling through your cheeks, of embracement and jolly to be with somebody, of the unusual ability over sensing how the future would be, then it’s humanly, bitterly, love.
One late autumn night, the disciple awoke crying. So the master asked the disciple, “Did you have a nightmare?” “No.” “Did you have a sad dream?” “No,” said the disciple. “I had a sweet dream.” “Then why are you crying so sadly?” The disciple wiped his tears away and quietly answered, “Because the dream I had can’t come true.”