「舞舞舞」看到下半本的一半了。不知道為什麼，總覺得這本書的名字唸起來就應該是「Dance Dance Dance」，直覺吧。我又看不懂日文當然不知道它該怎麼唸。
How many letters will I send to you? It may be beyond your imagination. I don’t mean to bother you but I have no choice; sorry. What motivates me to write a letter is pretty much the same as what motivates me to write a blog: I want you/people to know me. The everyday A and the interior A, or the A who suffered from something, incurred something, or changed after something. On daytime window shopping, people look at the store images carefully or carelessly. American stores are big! Big and deep. Don’t underestimate the volume of a store. I think I am the same. I wish I could. The truth is that, the soul mate standing in front of the store actually is at the very end of the store. Since the glass inside acted like mirror, the soul mate was regarded as standing outside while he/she was actually reflected.
“But, my soul mate is always at the outside of the store.” He (a general case of human, no sexual implication) stands outside the store, without oppression, while he hugs me tight. Or he may even more familiar with my store.
Many things cannot be written into English. To translate into English, one concept has to be continuously condensed and reconstructed until it is logical to American. “It’s a traitorous safety.” It’s like the conflict between Celsius and Fahrenheit without scientific basis. Often I think,”Is it a price for more customers/people in the store? To hide something that you have, and show some that you don’t.” But I haven’t expected any foreigner (speaking language other than Mandarin) to be in the store! It is that, I do expect for a Middle-East-looking guy to be my boyfriend, nevertheless I never expect him to be in my store and look like being outside. Then why I do all this?
I think you know well the reason I write the letter to you. Even though you don’t know in fact, you guess right. Because you understand me.
I read up half of the second half of “Dance Dance Dance.” It should also be read as “Dance Dance Dance” in Japanese; I supposed instinctively. It’s a pity that I don’t know any Japanese.
If you put me in the novel of Haruki Murakami, maybe I would become a glass ball; a hollow glass ball with one high-density smaller ball inside. It’s bigger than a handful size (like a D-cup); the ball is unbreakable though its shell is thin. If one could lift up the ball and shake it, the high-density ball would definitely break the glass ball and fall out, and the hand which holds the glass ball would consequently got cut by the shell which supposed to be harmless. While the high-density ball is incredibly heavy so no human could lift it; the glass ball can only roll. Rolling is easy, even Egyptians know that: moving the rocks by rolling (logs). The glass ball seems to be free, because it can roll to anywhere; it just cannot be lift up and move.
A life that no one can take over but free in general.
Oh, I went to Boston College hours before for a walk. The campus ….. I should say, “a pretty American ‘English Park’.” 24 degree Celsius, sunlight of 45 degree latitude, shade of trees, meadow, breezes, and jingle from the church — a best place for jogging. Nonetheless it’s not a best place for reading Haruki Murakami’s novel, either any magazine; it’s for jogging, yep, it’s for jogging.
J, do you think it’s OK that I lead a life like this? Am I going to lose the real me? Ever time I feel like “this is fine, and that’s not killing.” As long as I don’t have something which “must be found,” it may be inappropriate for me to engage such personality. And I AM just not the kind of person. Am I going to be superficial for the rest of my life? I randomly walk without tripped yet without any intention. Is it going to be like that?
Anyway, wish you a good day.
(ps. next time I’ll send you things from earth, like bubble-gum-flavor watermelon Coolatta or microwaved macaroni)