Composition 26 天帝のはしたなき果実





A minor tune heard from our music room, and it made me feel wet.
Popping, plunking, plunking, strumming―
It made me imagine an egret playing in the Milky Way, in the faint reflection.
It made me associate an airplane in the night sky, brightened up by orange light.
It made me remember Monet's Gare Saint-Lazare. I felt as if I had to leave on a journey this morning, and I stood on the platform of Saint-Lazare station, surrounded by the smoke of a steam locomotive.
I went up the stairs with impatience and opened the door. Mineha Shiori was playing the piano in the music room. The sound changed from sentimental piano to forte with fitful glissando, and the melody modulated decisively―it made me visualize a boy running in the morning mist or a glass bead thrown away to the sea yesterday; To sum up, I felt the lush shine. And then, the music finished at last.
No one was there except two of us. My clap echoed in the room. Shiori looked at me and asked, "When did you start listening to my play?"
"I think mostly from the beginning." I gripped a part of my school uniform around my chest. "Your performance was so amazing that I can't say anything. What's the title?"
"Take a guess."
"I have no clue―but I felt wet when I heard it as well as I had heard Chopin."
"How do you entitle it?"
"In that case," I came back immediately. "Departure."
"If you titled so," She closed the keyboard lid. "it is Departure."
"Tell me the correct answer."
"I don't know such a thing. It is the untitled music I composed."