Musical works can hold infinite meanings with each audience’s interpretation and personal experience. For me, Canon in D by Johann Pachelbel is a composition of evocative recollections, a piece I was deeply moved by since its notes first reached my ears. The nostalgic composition often brings back the days of my early childhood, on which the passage of years has laid a layer of milky gauze. Dare I say, the prologue of my life came to an abrupt end the moment I set foot on the airplane with the destination of a country on the other side of the Earth. If only I could become lost in a story in that same room, where summer sunlight beamed through the windows onto sky-blue wallpaper, and I could hear a symphony of cicadas from a cranny of the door. If only I could sit down at that same desk, waiting for the tune of the school bell, or race through the halls echoing with laughter, only to be halted by the stern face of a teacher. If only I could return and place a dam in the river of time. The paths I knew like the back of my hand have been paved with new tiles, and the companions that walked alongside me have metamorphosed out of who I had known them to be. But memories are not cities and people, and memories, once engraved in the brain, never change. And so I sit, indulging myself in reminiscence of a past I can no longer return to.