Actor in Hollywood

Loneliness. Sorrow. Desolation. Bitterness. Melancholy.

In a corner of New York's concrete jungle, it felt like a lost Atlantis, quietly slipping into another world. The soft golden sunlight filtered down, but there was an air of melancholic blue.

The confusion and hesitation of an indie band, the solitude and struggle of chasing dreams—it all felt like the hidden loneliness in this bustling city. Even in a sea of people, no one noticed. Despite the crowds, there was an eerie silence, as if you were dancing alone in the darkness.

But is that really the case?

Do you remember Anson's recent lyrics?

"I don't care."

Just when everyone was sinking into the cliché sadness of dream-chasing, Anson said, "No."

Yes, the road to chasing dreams is destined to be one of lonely strides and stumbling steps, but he refused to wallow in self-pity. Even if he was alone, he was going to celebrate until dawn.

"Yee-haw!"

With a cowboy's shout, the somber, melancholic atmosphere was instantly shattered. The smile at the corner of Anson's mouth bloomed like golden sunlight dancing wildly on the Caribbean waves in the heat of August. He raised his right hand high in a lasso motion, and the quiet in the crowd was completely overturned and broken.

Join the celebration!

That wide, blooming smile infected Connor, infected Lily, and infected Miles. The three young people exchanged glances. It had been so, so long since they had been this happy; they couldn't even remember the last time they enjoyed a performance this much.

It also infected Blake, Karen, and everyone present. The cheers and applause erupted in a wave of excitement—

Connor and Anson, both on guitar, played in unison around Miles' cello. Miles looked at Lily as the cello and the keyboard's melodies collided and intertwined, sometimes fast, sometimes passionate. Three instruments, four band members—through their glances, you could feel the emotion bursting forth.

Like fireworks.

Joyous, exuberant, surging, impassioned.

It was like bursting onto the scene of a Brazilian carnival—vibrant and electrifying. The notes seemed infused with life, with skirts twirling, light-footed dance steps, releasing every ounce of energy without restraint. The overwhelming, thunderous rhythms made the engines and noise of the world dance along.

Including Miles.

Sitting on his chair, playing the cello, he could feel the surge of passion through his shoulders, head, and right hand. The friction between the bow and the strings sparked, his smile in full bloom. All that emotion poured into the notes; you could almost hear the sound of blood boiling, with even his hair dancing along.

Then, the cello began to spin—

The cello! Spinning!

The crowd gasped in amazement, watching as Miles' bashful, shy smile radiated pure joy, causing hearts to burst with excitement.

Who could possibly resist?

Blair was the first to raise her hand high. Without any prompting or rehearsal, she clapped along to the band members' rhythm. Before she even had a chance to think, a smile had already crept up onto her face—

She didn't care.

Even if she had to walk this path alone, even if she was the only one foolish enough to believe in dreams, even if she was the only one to pause and admire life's scenery, she would celebrate until dawn, all the way to the ends of the earth.

If life is just a fleeting and elusive dream, then she'd rather keep running through its brilliant and dazzling landscapes.

Wake her when it's all over, when she's older and wiser.

Anson, singing with all his heart.

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"Attempting to carry the weight of the world, but my hands fall far too short; yearning to witness the world's sights, yet lacking any plan."

"May I stay young forever, without fearing to close my eyes, for life is but a game, and love is the reward." (Note 1)

No longer somber, no longer sorrowful, no longer melancholic, no longer lost.

Anson's voice, bright and full of warmth, radiated joy and passion. His sharp features and deep-set eyes lit the torch of dreams, guiding lost souls in the darkness back toward the light.

The melody began to rise, gaining momentum, and Anson's voice soared along with it.

"Wake me up when it's all over, when I'm wiser and older, I've been searching for myself but never realized I was lost."

With a quick glance, Anson's gaze fell upon his three temporary bandmates:

Lily, her keyboard playing was noticeably lighter, each note bridging to the next, creating a rhythmic gap—not a pause, but a beat struck with the keys as though they were drumsticks.

Connor, the same. He strummed rapidly, and with his palm, he gently tapped the body of his guitar, producing both strings and drum beats—one person, two instruments.

And Miles?

Miles had set aside his bow and was plucking the cello strings with his fingers. The deep, resonant sounds were like distant echoes from the earth's core, traveling between Lily's and Connor's performances, creating the illusion of the ground trembling, with the entire world swaying and vibrating, sending shivers through the air and rippling through eardrums.

Thump, thump, thump.

Without a drum kit, they still managed to create an explosive and surging rhythm. Blair had completely lost her composure, her hands raised high, clapping and dancing at once.

She knew she was alone in her madness, that no one else was quite as wild, but she didn't care. It was as if she was the only person in the world, singing and dancing with reckless abandon, fully immersed in the moment, seizing every second and letting life bloom with all its colors.

Anson, singing with abandon.

He seemed to notice Blair, his smile growing even brighter, and his voice took on a lighter, more joyful tone.

"Wake me up when it's all over, when I'm wiser and older, I've been searching for myself but never realized I was lost."

He gently hit a high note, perfectly landing at the peak, then pulled back. He turned and called out.

"Miles!"

All eyes turned to the cello.

Miles straightened his back, the bow once again gliding over the strings. With no one else accompanying him, it was a solo performance. The bow danced rapidly across the strings, and he lifted his head high, his hair flying and his smile beaming, as if every cell in his body was playing along with the music.

It turns out, notes can speak.

It turns out, notes truly carry emotions and colors.

Miles' passion and wildness, his focus and joy, all poured into the notes, releasing an unimaginable energy.

Then.

Anson leaned forward slightly, joining Miles with his guitar, creating a duet—a contrast of high and low, fast and slow. Their interplay generated an incredible energy, like a rushing river running alongside a trickling stream. They exchanged glances, using their instruments to hold a conversation.

Soaring, passionate, exuberant.

No lyrics, no singing—just the instruments. Pure music. Yet, at that moment, the power of music was fully unleashed, elevating the allure of instruments to a new level. Whether classical or popular music, this moment was an entirely new experience.

Perhaps this was the first time since Kenny G that someone reexamined the true allure of instruments.

However, the celebration had only just begun.

After a brief and beautiful harmony between the cello solo and the guitar, Anson stood up straight and looked toward Connor, who had been waiting eagerly. He raised his voice and called out.

"And now... Connor!"

Connor stepped forward, bringing his beloved guitar with him.

Note 1: "Wake Me Up" - Avicii (Hoppipolla Version)

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