Nothing gives me more joy than losing myself in beautiful scenery. Sitting in front of a lake guarded by white-streaked mountains, writing a postcard. Absorbing myself in a painting, slowly taking in every flower, every bit of sky, every wisp of cloud. Passing by the endless rise and fall of the green, rolling hills overlooking lone clouds of mist hanging silently over a visible roof or two. But writing about these things – the landscape before my eyes and the ensuing one in my mind (heart?) – is always a struggle. There is never an adequate way to express such stirring contentment such that you would do the beautiful cause justice, and so my respite from this struggle is always the unfailing Virginia Woolf and Fernando Pessoa who do this so well.

Over this last weekend, during the journey back from bringing YKLS.Period to Penang, I realised that having nailed the last two runs of our show, the choir had done exactly what I constantly drive myself up the wall trying and often failing to do. Except it was not prose, but the resonant echoes of the beautiful hour-long song that is YKLS.Period, that was tirelessly sketching, colouring, bringing to life every blossom of spring, every golden beam of summer passing into the hum of autumn and then the hushed blue whispers of winter.

Realising this is fulfilling indeed, especially while we zoom down the highway and I look at the shadow of the trees pass and gently caress the luminescent edges of the moon; because this is all so beautiful, it deserves a story to be told to an audience, and we have found a way to tell this story in a language I am fluent at – voices lifted in song.

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