Live for an hour

I know people define it differently, but here is what i define it. and It's based on a true story and not the imagination of a delusional re-director.

So here you are, a mixture of birds songs, cars running, and the piano. You feel it and you understand that you are living this moment, right now, right this moment with this fly roaming around your pen and the jingling sound of a campus security guards' key chain lingering from his waist band, and the little spider-like insect like a chigger walking by the white of your paper saying hi, and the warmth of the sun ray on your cheek all through the minutes of light distance hitting the leaves of an old big oak tree, touching your face and saying you! you my son! you are living this moment. keep listening to the cristofori's dream and all the nature's music right now, right here, you take a deep breath and read the paragraph again to yourself:
"Moonlight streamed in through a little window in the roof. It fell upon old chests and ship bells lying under a cover of dust and spiderwebs. But it wasn't only the moon illuminating the dark attic. the moonlight was blue, but there was also a bright shimmer, in all the colors of the rainbow."
Take a glance around, gentle breeze uplifts the next page, but you're not still there, thinking about your writing that looks like an abstract note to the dove flying above the oak tree. I remember this bird's song, very familiar to me, sitting next to small waterfall, singing for the better future, alone, yes, that's the piano music you would like to listen to, right at this moment, to live it thoroughly, to be conscious about what moves and what sings and the leaves and the warmth and the clouds scattered trying to vanish to disappear in the vastness of this blue sky.
"Baker Hans made his way across the attic floor..." After reading upon the Frode's playing cards, I think to myself, am I really me? sitting on this bench and living this moment? It's hard for me to be true, and I tell myself, well so, it's all maybe because of what you have been through, and the joy you feel now is the result of that pain maybe, calm now, I tell myself calm down, breathe slowly, empty it, clear the heart and slowly let it go, let all go, let them go; float in space and time, listen to the air of Bach and the song of all these tree crickets singing for their lovers as there is nothing except this moment, and only this moment, live it fully, live it my son and just like their songs fade away, moments come and go, and white papers become all red words of life.
Pastorale of secret garden and Paul Mauriat plays tocata, and the "taste starting from the tip of your tongue, but you could also taste strawberry, raspberry, apple, and banana in both your arms and your legs. In the tip of your little finger you could taste honey. In one of your toes you taste preserved pears, and in the small of your back, pastry cream. I can smell the scent of my mother all over my body."
And the sun, the gorgeous sun sets a small building and you think how the rainbow soda reminded of the Perfume, the story of a murdered, dazzling, beautiful, deep, relaxing and confusing.

p.s. the quotations are from the book "the solitaire mystery" by Jostein Gaarder.
p.s. ask your Chinese friend about the note