Day One
I buried myself in “Madness and Civilization” while listening to “These Foolish Things” on an endless loop, and surprisingly enjoyed the three-hour flight back to Beijing. “Madness that is the deja-la of death” to go with “the wind of March that made my heart a dancer”. It’s probably better to turn schizophrenia before fell by Alzheimer. The sun went down on my left side in the process.
It’s not that I’m particularly interested in the historical development of Looney pens in Europe through the dark age, I probably already forgot what was said on one page when I flip to the next, but it’s a well written essay printed on premium quality pages with a pleasant opal tint, and I, like John Cusack said, “just want to listen to something I can ignore.”
In the car home I felt asleep a bit and when I woke up we are already off the highway. The cityscape outside the moving window was properly lit for a March night that was already turning balmy. I listened to “wild strawberries only seven francs a kilo” and thought how Maomao keeps saying “蓝莓! 蓝莓!” if you ask him what his favorite food is. He does not have a favorite food actually, he puts anything, edible or not, in his mouth with equal enthusiasm and anticipation. And I realized this was probably the first time I thought of him during the course of day. Thought of calling for a sec but he should be sleeping by now. How I always looked forward to nine o’clock every night when it’s finally time to put him to bed. I turned off the music. The driver who is always friendly chatty with me remained professionally distant behind the wheel, and together we raced home in silence proper.
Wang Maomao 