痛苦与荣耀

Almodóvar mentioned in his most recent work that the childhood cinema in his memory was always a mixture of smell of piss, and jasmine, and the summer breeze. I wish I could talk with him about this type of memory, about breeze, the special tune of sunlight shed at the rifling between seasons that indicates the past of the previous, and the upcoming of the new one.

It also brought me back to the childhood in Combray, where the white hawthorn flowers spread their aroma across the meadow with the help of wind, straight into the sensitive boy's head. The story of madeleine never arise any similar feeling for me, actually the scent of food barely has effect on my nerves. It is always the wind, temperature, changes in the angle of sunlight, or something else that goes directly into my eyes by description or by being existing.

When you started to notice that you paid attention to these tiny details in life but your 'friends' didn't, you probably began to think you were quite different from the crowds, which might after a decades flash back to your memory just to laugh at you. At least I did. And one day in the future counted forwards from the day when this type of self-awareness starts, I met someone who could respond to these feelings, or has similar neuron signal transmitting pattern to generate likely feelings, I thought I was in love.

There are millions of novels, songs, poems, movies, animations talking about love. Human nature is so complicated and sometimes very secretive and ugly, however everyone is looking for love, no matter how strongly they deny it, or how they decided to drop this painful courting-love game in later life, as if that's the meaning of life, the life that we don't understand why it is granted to each struggling individual. Something buried in our gene pushed us to chase for love, while disguising the desire to pass the gene on. It is mysterious how the subconscious behaviours are decided by genes we don't know where it locates.

I was obsessed with observing how my cat live his life every day. He is a talky cat that always tried to communicate in his own language, to indicate he is angry, satisfied, eager to play outside, confused, and show attitudes when being picked-up or feel comfortable. We are different species, we can't even mock each other's accents, although I tried hard to attract his attention with 'his' language. Still we understand each other, by hearing the unique language, by observing an everyday gesture, by looking into each other's eyes. When you find someone you love and you think there is a bond between you, no matter if it is based on a misunderstanding from the beginning or not, there's always daily chances when you don't talk, just looking into the eyes, and nodding at each other, you know what you are heading to. Although finally it might end up with distancing and silence, like how most love story ends, you will not forget the nodding, and the feeling about how you know what the eyes are trying to say.