Last summer, the silent sea
It was May Day and it’s hot and crowded as usual. Summer in Shenzhen is always hot, he said to himself. He was on a bus, sitting beside a lady and spending the afternoon peering at slowly moving red lights through clouds of exhaust. Now he was heading for Da Meisha, a seaside, which’s two hours journey form his dorm.
The bus was coming through the downtown now. He raised his head and looked through the window. Those skyscrapers seem familiar. He had been in this city for nearly three years and he saw them often too, but he never knew them. He had the same feeling that though many people on the street see each other everyday, they do not know each other very well. They have endless business to go through. And then he thought of the sea Suddenly he realized that he was in a sea now, a sea of people from everywhere.
“I wish it won’t jam today. You know it was reported that the traffic had been seriously jammed and the cars lined ten miles away. Traffics on May Day are always a serious problem.” Said a yang man behind him. The bus moved slowly, just as it was exhaust after millions of mils’ journey. Wouldn\'t a wasted minute become a wasted hour, wasted hours become wasted days? Where could he be now if he hadn\'t been doing –sitting in traffic jams, chatting on MSN, playing computer games, sitting in the classroom idling? Best avoided, the thought of his life draining into these moments.
But the bus finally managed to struggle through the sea. And then he saw those mountains. Flesh air began to squash into the window that added some vitality to the crowed box. He began to throw away those sentimental feelings. He like the feeling of looking those trees passing by quickly, leaving nothing in his mind. Yes, he like the feeling of moving. A man gets tied up to the ground will give this world his saddest sound.
The sunshine fell gently on his hair. The lady beside him now rested her head on her friend’s shoulder. Then he began to imagine the feeling of being rested- it must be very sweet, but he didn’t know exactly how it feels of being “sweet”, just like a blind man trying to imagine the color of the sun. He had been alone for such a long long time that he knew it’s really hard for him to imagine.
Still there was half an hour to go. Thoughts surge in his mind again.
Hey, Santiago, I am coming to see you. He murmured. When he read those Hemingways, he remembered Santiago very well. Although Santiago has not caught a fish for eighty-four days, he ignores the pity of other fishermen, and returns to the sea in his skiff day after day. He was told that some people could be destroyed but would never be defeated. From the moment of reading Old Man And The Sea, he had the idea of paying a visit to the sea. He had spent his childhood in a small town that’s far away from the sea. Though he saw the sea thousands of time on TV, he never figures out what the sea really look like. Now he was on the road.
There came the sea at last.
He picked up his bag, went off the bus and walked to the sea. People on the seaside formed another sea, a sea of noised people. But he knew that he and them are different.
Then he felt the subtle sand and caught the voice of the wave. And he saw the waves surge forward one upon another. The sea was big and blue and the sky shares the same color. Oh, the sea, he murmured.
He found a quiet place and sat on the sand, stretching his legs. Laughter echoes from elsewhere. Children and their parents were chasing each other, and when strong waves surge on their feet, laughter is produced. Suddenly he felt the waves were kissing his feet. Did you say hi to me just now? He smiled at the sea. He kept his feet lying on there and let the seawater come into his shoes. Then memory slowly seeps from his veins. All the sounds were vanished. The sea was in silence.
What’s the magic of memory? He had tried many times to forget those things but all his efforts were in vain. The more efforts he made, the harder to get rid of it.
It may take only a few minutes to get to know someone, one hour to fall in love with someone, but it will take the whole life to forget someone. All those good old days were directed into a movie and slowly broadcasted in his mind. His mind wandered back to the place of long afternoons, listening to the river and birds. He remembered clearly the day when he got to know her in a group of girls. That day they made lots of paper boat and flowed it into the river. But now all those people seemed to disappear into the world. How would they be recognized now - perhaps only by the sound of their laughter? Those days were not proper time to talk about love. Now the time comes but without an opportunity. Time pass by and wait for no man. Something once you lose, will never get it back.
Paper boat, paper boat, he murmured. Then he took out a piece of paper from his bag.
That was a letter he wrote months ago. Now the wave became stronger, drops of seawater fell on his hands trying to see what’s on the paper.
*It’s been a long time since I wrote to you last time. Maybe I don’t need to ask how things with you now since you had planned it very well and I know you will make it. Last time I called you and you said that you were busy with your certificate. I got that certificate months ago and I think you too.
I want to thank you for your breakfast last time, and now everything seems better than before. I am afraid I\'ve done nothing very exciting to tell you about. Here is just an endless succession of long boring tasks. I am still trying very hard to put everything in their places. You know there always some reason to feel not good enough, and it\'s hard at the end of the day. But everything will be all right; just sometimes feel a little lonely. Once I joked myself, I am not alone because I have loneness as accompany.
You told me to go look for happiness and share with others. But you can\'t store happiness. You can\'t keep it for when you need it and you cannot give them to someone else simply by having it yourself. Sometimes I just lie on my bed in the dorm idling. “Days become nights and nights gently give way to days and the I suddenly get a feeling that reading is dreaming, that dreaming is sleeping and thoughtless. When I wake I find that all I have left is thoughts of you.”
……*
He read it slowly. How was she doing now? He asked with a sigh, but the sea didn’t tell him. Now the Cinderella had gone away with other prince, without leaving her red shoes.
Gently he made that paper into a paper boat. When a wave came ashore, he set it on the water and then, slowly and crankily it went to the sea and then it disappeared.
How stupid he was. Only a little more courage could change the whole thing. He murmured again. The sun, once shining brightly on the face of Santiago was now shining brightly on his head and the sea was still in its beautiful and glorious silence.
NOTE: This article was orginally posted in tianyaclub half years ago. |
发表于 2004-1-9 00:00:00
发表于 2005-2-19 05:31:09
