And suddenly memories come back. A dream that have not been reached. To be an orchestra violin player.
I realize, more than three years I didn't play the violin. Only four months left until the audition. And the worst thing is I don't have a violin anymore. My violin teacher also said it will be difficult. But the dream is haunting me. I can feel like there is a butterfly in my stomach when I'm thinking about this. It's my passion. An oblivious passion.
"What are dreams made of? Hopes? Fantasies? Childhood memories? Are they made of anything? Or are they actually the result of something else? Or are dreams simply a trigger so we move forward?"
~Diana Rikasari
Should I?
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