flood of tiredness

Aug.7

Though I was unable to ward off the flood of tiredness after two-hour walking round-trip between the campus and the house, the daily trip was not that boring. For one thing, no longer do I have to travel in the featureless background of Beijing. And I do love those wooden porches of every house that I walk by. They are the best distinct of this region.

The other day A and me, the two of us were standing in the backyard, drinking arizona inced tea from the pharmacy and absorbed in sporadic but amicable conversations like the breeze of night.  During our brief conversation, I had found myself liking and trusting him. He's a man-child and that's why I spoke about him fondly. Nevertheless, knowing him bothers me as well. I could have put it more precisely that I wanted the room now I am staying in not the one upstairs though it is way more expensive. It's so cozy.

 There are moments when the recollection of someone unexpected gets sparked, like the wizard. There was a day when we sat beside the West Lake and he swore to me that he had once seen the ghost of a little girl on a ceremony, a vision, he claimed, glimpsed only briefly, but with absolute clarity, of the little girl standing beside the door, watching her alive parents standing in silent solidarity on her funeral and nodded greetings at each other, not recognizing most of them.

 Murmur--------------------

Each flight is just an curiously unsocial gathering. Few of the passengers seem to know each other while deep inside their curiosity of the neighbors could be sensed. For some reason inexpressibly, these strangers will be touched by some slight mercy, say a seize by arm of the passenger beside when the turbulence suddenly stroke your place, unless they are stone-heated alien beings.

Speaking of that, I am learning to be a friendly alien from the Mars. I had unfortunately inherited my father's featureless look, but nonetheless something of mother's bearings, her shyness and hesitancy, while my sisters and brothers seem far more grounded and confident. I am ill on such occasions as social gathering banquets. And my voice, on the rare occasions when I speak to some guy I adore, will be inaudibly gentle.

Growing up in a nation under horrible political regime, smiling doubtfully.is becoming a morbid common sense. Not to mention something like compliments. That's nineteen seventies vintage as unreadable as those melancholy paintings.