wonderful fingers, beautiful hands.

He reminds me of her. With less effects but more heart.

To say so much with so little movement and without the aid of words.

It's frightening.

A calming, heart-wrenching, nerve-wrecking explosion.

I have no idea how such paradox could exist, but that was how I felt somewhat as I sat for a few hours of music. I don't know how many, but it didn't feel long.

And I wouldn't say exactly, because the plethora of emotions is far too confusing to reduce to words. Blame Alvin for that.

The concert, I thought, was significantly better than the previous year's. If I go on to speak about technicalities I'll probably sound like a pretentious idiot since I know shit about music.

The first band concert to ever get me engaged and awake throughout.

And it wasn't just because I woke up at 1.30 pm.

Or because the seat was too dam uncomfortable to sleep in.

Or because Hui Yi screamed. (She does it far too often for it to be surprising.)

Or because Alvin was utterly and devastatingly enchanting.

No, it wasn't just because of Alvin.

It wasn't just because of how my entire being was completely taken by the way the music moved in time with his beautiful hands. How every shrug, twitch or flick of that hypnotic wand undid him and bared his very soul to the predatory audience. How emotions ran wildly and freely across his face, and it didn't even matter that I was only granted a view of his back, I could still see it, knew it was there creating and moulding such an organic sense of peace and fulfilment in all the passion flowing and igniting and raging fiercely and needily through the conduits of his veins.

It was while watching him that I realized that it's this nakedness of emotion and vulnerability of soul that makes art beautiful.

Like love.

And perhaps that's what I felt. Not the part which is complicated and self-depreciating and destructive, but the part which is full of life and complex and beautiful, which is why it's so confusing.

It's funny how a stranger you've only ever seen once before, smiling under the dim light of a cloudy afternoon and twirling car keys on his index finger can evolve that magnificently on stage to make your heart beat so wildly within the tight confines of your chest that your ribs can sue you in court for attempted homicide.

It almost felt like watching a long lost lover.

Seeing the breath-taking beauty in an individual and longing to seize it and nurture it and believe in it but knowing that it's not your place.

Strange indeed, but the emotion's gone now. It was precious enough to only live for a few magical moments.

But the admiration still lingers, and I suppose in cases as this it deserves permanence.

Despite the lack of appreciation for music, I still do appreciate art.
And Alvin Seville, is most definitely a piece of art.