Journalist Mamalay - Fine Artist

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Standing under the fluorescent lights, I looked across the platform at the train I was supposed to take.

The train heading to Pyay is fully loaded with passengers, waiting for its departure time.

I crossed the platform and descended the stairs, then hurriedly walked to the side of the train where the first-class carriages were attached. I had to read the name cards attached to the first-class carriages to find the carriage where my name would be placed.

I had a writing assignment while traveling. I remembered that it would be better if there were no passengers in the carriage I was riding in. Since I had to travel all day, I found it difficult to sit down and write all day.

Before I could look at the name tags attached to one of the carriages, I looked inside. The passengers were sitting.

I hesitantly pulled out my name card, wondering if it was the car I was supposed to ride in. “Kyee Kyee Htay” “Mamalay.”

When I saw the name Kyi Kyi Htay above my name, I immediately assumed it was the movie actress Kyi Kyi Htay, and since the traveler who would be accompanying me all day was an artist, I thought it would be an interesting trip.

An old lady in her sixties and a dark-skinned man smoking a cigar seemed to be staring at me, observing me. The young woman and Kyi Kyi Htay seemed to have fallen asleep, lying on their bunks before the train left.

Kyi Kyi Htay looked over and took up his position by spreading out the chairs on the other side as a bed.

The train pulled out of the station as the sky began to turn white. As I sat there, enjoying the cool, fresh air and the clear, beautiful morning, I turned to look at the movement on the other side.

"I feel sick to my stomach," he moaned, and his eyes met Kyi Kyi Htay, who was climbing the stairs to sleep on the top bunk.

The round, clear face, the bright eyes, the smile, the sweet face, the sweet smile, the sweet smile, I could see the same expressions I had seen many times in movies and plays.

He began to focus on his talent, which allowed him to carry his plot with natural ease, starting with the theater.

He could not think of him as a budding scholar, but rather as an experienced scholar. He had always imagined that one day he would be seen famously on film in the play "Lin Lu Lu Raung Ni" in which he participated.

Whenever I go to see movies and plays, I tend to focus more on the personalities of the actors than the plot, so when I go to see a movie or play, it's like just watching the characters' expressions.

Some actors and actresses in movies and dramas pay too much attention to details that slip away from the plot and scene, and are caught and caught in the act. Kyi Kyi Htay's lacunae are rarely seen, so it has been criticized that his ability to perform both physically and mentally, and his ability to blend together as one, are due to his mature artistic foundation.

Remembering my criticism, his desire to know the basics of his knowledge became stronger as he sat there.

On the other side, he stared at the sleeping figure of the old lady, thinking that she looked like his mother. The old lady's face was a sharp, determined face that would never look back if it happened. Her skin was soft and smooth. She was sleeping with a rosary in her red palm.

He was lying on his back, sounding like a man driving a car, and he was also gentle, not harsh. He was lying on his back, smoking a big cigar, and sleeping with his hands folded on his chest, not like Kyi Kyi Htay's husband, but like a father who was always watching over his daughter.

From above, I could see and hear the man sleeping on his side on the bed, his beautiful voice and graceful form flying, twisting, and moving merrily.

The old lady woke up and sat up. She stared at the fields outside the carriage, playing the past on the strings of her lute.

“Back then... the places where my mother lived. My mother worked in Moe Ai village, Letpan Township, Pyay District, so Kyi Kyi Htay was still a young child. The older daughters were in his sister-in-law’s drama. The main actress, Daw Sein Yoon, was my mother’s daughter, a good singer, a good dancer…”

While I was painting every detail of everything I heard, felt, and sensed from the sound of the old lady's lute, Kyi Kyi Htay came down the stairs and changed his face. As I desired, he entered my life from his place, and I absorbed as much as I could his facial expressions, voice, and body language that were etched into my mirror.

"I'm just starting out as a five-year-old, big sister..."

The train was speeding along. My brain was spinning like a train wheel that had been spinning for countless times. The family gathered around me seemed to be in separate places in my eyes, but they disappeared, and I couldn't see them, but I could see them. Inanimate objects that were not near me appeared in various shapes and forms before my eyes, and the sounds emanating from these various shapes echoed in the background.

Just as a train follows the sound of its wheels, so too, following the lead of the voice that dominates my attention, my eyes, and my ears, I follow closely, as I see in my eyes, as I hear in my ears, as I reflect in my senses.