Road Movie
I wasn’t always captive of the Minotaur. There was a time where I travelled the roads, endeavouring to discover the lands, seas and skies. This was a time where my music served purposes of dance spectacles, theatre representations, and film projections. This was a time of youth and freedom.
Every winter, I routed back to the heights of the Southern Mountains to hibernate through the cold months, in a cozy, frozen cave.
One spring, however, I woke up in a stinking, humid chamber of a dreadful labyrinth. Skeletons of rodents covered the floor. A feeble candle revealed the moist stone walls, pierced with iron rings, from which were hanging heavy, black chains. And these were secured tightly around my ankles. The Minotaur had abducted me to acquire a music composer. Since then, I work for him and have not seen the light of the sun, heard the sound of the shores, felt the touch of long grass.
But my mind is free. When I close my eyes, I still can see myself on the roads and hear my music, as if I were watching a road-movie. Here are old compositions that I’m trying to revive in my memory.