The Snow Melted Down

Today I walked through a park where trees cluttered together here and there. It was slightly raining. Snow on the branches was melting. The drops falling down were tiny, making sounds I could hear from distance, which were noticeably louder than the rain made.

As I walked on the path and approached to some trees, it gave me a sense of experiencing a surreal trip. It was a video game, a journey of surreality. There was nobody except me. Those clutter of trees played a nice piece of music to me. That music was interactive and consistent— I was the creator and a participator of this music, in a slice of time it could be looped again and again but with a different soundscape every time.


It suddenly became an reality right after I walked out the park and got on a bus. I saw the sun was going down, rendering the sky in a slightly warmer color than the moment before but still feels cold — just like what you may have seen from a frozen forest when its twilight comes. That music game in the garden was no longer interactive nor consistence.

I got deafen by the noises that the bus made and my mind was on another surreal rage again.

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