I raise my bow.
The calluses on my fingertips are the only map I need. They are rough, permanent, and ugly, sitting just below the first knuckle. My classmates spend their allowance on cherry-scented hand cream to impress boys. I spend mine on rosin and gut strings. They don’t know that pain is not the enemy of beauty. It is the prerequisite.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw my violin case onto the Yamanote Line tracks and watch the trains turn it to splinters. But I just looked out the window at the flashing billboards and said, “I will fix it.”
I realize, standing there on the stage, that I do not know if I will get the chair. I do not know if I will be first violin or last chair or sent home with a “thank you for your time.”
Ichika Matsumoto Pov Fix May 2026
I raise my bow.
The calluses on my fingertips are the only map I need. They are rough, permanent, and ugly, sitting just below the first knuckle. My classmates spend their allowance on cherry-scented hand cream to impress boys. I spend mine on rosin and gut strings. They don’t know that pain is not the enemy of beauty. It is the prerequisite.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw my violin case onto the Yamanote Line tracks and watch the trains turn it to splinters. But I just looked out the window at the flashing billboards and said, “I will fix it.”
I realize, standing there on the stage, that I do not know if I will get the chair. I do not know if I will be first violin or last chair or sent home with a “thank you for your time.”