New Streams of Life (2)
New Streams of Life (2)
Soon after our Sunday roast, I went out for a walk in the fields with my friend
and his father. It was a different feeling from last time. Jet lag finally wore
off and I felt back to normal now. Walking on the moistly greens, my senses gradually came back to me. Though sounds were not wanting in the fields, they were definitely far from disturbing. In Shanghai, all the roaring sounds mixed together to such an extent that you could not tell it is from nature’s anger or the city’s exhausting puffing.
At one point, we passed down a some-one-hundred-year-old stony bridge. There was a beach down the bridge and I was told there were two rail tracks on the bridge. Have said that, my friend’s father said, I haven’t seen a train or a soul
passing that bridge ages. But just about his finishing that, we heard and then
saw a blue shiny train whooping through the tunnel and across the bridge. It somewhat reminded me the train tunnel in the film Spirited Away. Not as spooky, but definitely as surprising and, to a certain extent, thrilling.
I didn’t tell my friend’s father that Cornwall is like a dreamland in my eyes.
He has been living here ever since he was fourteen. It hasn’t changed a bit, in the sunshine he sighed with a cigarette blinking at his finger tips. My friend
’s father, as far as I am concerned, is a strange person. While he is ignorant
of cutting-age technologies, he is very thoughtful in his own way of life. Maybe
it is a good thing. In this modern times many things such as computer technologies don’t preserve but decay or go out of date swiftly, but if you have something quality inside you, you will be always a respectable person.
I understand different people have different wants for their life. Some people,
though nattering at their city life, won’t sacrifice the convenience for long-lasting quietness and self-sufficiency in the suburbs. When I was asked how I got
on with the life here in Saltash, I always said that I got on really well. Though somewhat you have to depend on wheels if you want to go anywhere, but I don’
t mind a whit of it. I have been longing for a quiet, nobody-knows-about-you life for a long while. And now finally this peaceful land sufficed my thirst. I guess I am never a sort of city person.
In Now is the Time to Open Your Heart, written by Alice Walker, the protagonist
Kate went outside of her circle to look for a flowing river. It was indicated by
the writer the river was a river of life, one associated with memory of the past, the present, and hopefully the future. Well, in the hilly fields, I actually
found a river, or rather a gurgling stream, which reminded me of the novel. In the clear afternoon, with chirping birds, the stream flew down from the hill to the influx of the river. It was a moving moment to hear the gurgling sound, so mellow and sweet, in the mild later-in-the-afternoon sun rays. It related me the marvel of the nature.
I don’t know how long I will remain in this place. But I know I will certainly
cherish the time whilst I am still here. In Alice Walker’s book, another protagonist Yolo wouldn’t let any of his collections from old times go, as in his words without seeing those collections, junk in other people’s eyes, he wouldn’t
be able to remember the past. But I don’t think I will need to take something in order to keep the memory. Just like Irene expressed in the film Forsyte Saga,
though things such as watches can be for sale, not clutter-free memories.
January 28, 2007
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