The “SHE” in the City || A Made-up Observation Part III
A heart-warming moment I saw in Swanston Library inspired me to write this. The “she” is the voice here:
I should go for a walk.
I never didn’t enjoy wandering mindlessly in the city—it’s a great way to look for inspirations. When doing this, I try to immerse in my psychic world and avoid making decisions about where to wander or go. It would be a bad habit for a practical person, but I’m not. I am too ideal. I am a writer. I, who create art out of languages, note down useless reflections about life, pondering insignificant subjects and matters that involves sentiments. “Art is useless,” Oscar Wilde used to say this. I can’t say that I agree with this completely, but occasionally I do find them useless in the way that it never did motivate me to do anything. Art just “sits” there, quietly, usually not even beautifully but peculiarly, being there, for us to observe and applaud for the innovative yet odd themes that are fixed upon it by the artists.
Been living in the city for ten years, I am familiar with almost every street and every corner of the city centre area. Walking down Sihui Road, I force myself not to think about how the past few years have slipped away like the fireworks in the sky that shined for only seconds. If only I can leave this city for good, I will leave all the memories behind, right here, forever. I hate it when nostalgia preoccupies my thoughts. It’s distracting. Though, I mustn’t move to another city just for escape because it’s cowardly, rather than an advantageous or, reasonable, temporary retreat. Passion and emotions thrive in me. Often, the process of oblivion takes longer time for me than others(or at least I think I do). How I wish I am a less sentimental person so that I can be less miserable when things happen! People, like me, once in a while falls into such strange cycles hoping for another identity, not realising at the moment how precious their qualities are. The self-doubt haunts us, but we mustn’t let it stray for long.
I can write about self-doubt in the next play. Why we doubt? How does it effect us? I must write something about a notorious, charming man; or a teenage girl of sixteen in search of love and identity. It’s exciting to write about those years of immaturity when anything could happen.
I bet the sunset will be fantastic today. I should walk there. What’s in that book store?
There is a big poster of the latest translated version of Márquez‘s works: for me, it’s a really well-designed series of books. There’s Folding Beijing! The one just won the Hugo Award for the Best Novelette. I always love a good sci-fi story so I must read it someday. This also reminds me of another one, The Three Body Problem, which was not very well known before it was awarded for Best Novel. I remember it well when I first read its complicated plots mixed with stories of the “three body problem” game and flashbacks of the Cultural Revolution. I never knew much about the revolution, at least not enough. Parents seldom talked about it during my childhood. History teachers never explained it detailedly—I guess for them it’s only a very short period in the course of human history after all.
It was him who first mentioned the book to me. I won’t deny that. He even used to be one of the most important person in my life for one year, but now I see how short a time one year is in a life’s time.
☞ Click to read Part IV ☜
Ron Sexsmith – Gold in them Hills
