见证一：站台
Witness is not memorial, not judgment — it is sitting beside an ordinary life as it appears, quietly watching it show itself. Ten pieces for the decade inside Jia Zhangke's Platform: a train that never comes, a radio's first note from the outside world, an old city wall that outlives everyone who leaned against it. History rarely arrives as event. More often it is a rerouted line, a wall left standing, one person gone, another who stays.
寂静的朋友 · Complete
The two Silent Friend albums heard as one — the tree and the people, interleaved by era. Part I follows the ginkgo across three lifetimes. Part II gives each person their own song. Together, in chronological order: tree witnesses first, then the inner voice answers.
寂静的朋友 (II)
Eight portraits of the people who gathered around a ginkgo tree in a German university garden — the botanist who danced barefoot in 1908, the photographer who understood darkness, the groundskeeper who watched them all arrive and leave. Each voice is a Spanish song. Each song is a kind of presence.
寂静的朋友 (I)
Seven pieces for nylon-string guitar, voice, and strings. A ginkgo tree in a German university garden, witnessed across three lifetimes: 1908, 1972, 2020. The music does not retell those stories. It inhabits the same silence.
步履不停
Six pieces for multi-instrument ensemble. A gem, a student, a teacher, 步履不停. A coffee shop in Tokyo. A final gift to oneself. People who cannot stop moving — not because they know where they're going.
看到了吗？
There is a moment, somewhere in childhood, when you can see things that adults cannot. Not because the things aren't there. Because you haven't learned to look away yet. Six pieces for chamber orchestra and a small imperfect voice.
勇气
Four kinds of courage. Survival. Transformation. Mastery. Freedom. None of which serves itself. One valley. The earth before all of them, and after.
美丽的境界
A fire at midnight. A lake so still it carries the moon undisturbed. A window, long after everyone has gone to sleep. Seven nocturnes for piano. The melody, each time, reaches upward — arrives at a note that doesn't quite belong — waits — then descends, one step at a time. Seven rooms. One sound.