mysophobia 潔癖

Nastiness Diagnosis. Anthropology. Religion. Gender. Justice. A Personal Notepad For the General Public.

The Restless Isolation I

She remembers they traveled across Formosa, to its southeast tip, hesitant to decide which piece of tiny peninsulas was its true end, when none of the future episodes of displacement could have been predicted.


She remembers she is the one, among the crew, who gives money to beggars. And sometimes she wanders about between lanes, walking back and forth, trying to track down the regular beggars who are missing. She goes in the same direction as the world, toward the elusive, always imminent east, the infinite empty. One day she comes face to face with the empty, the familiar empty ever since she acquired her self-awareness. She allows herself to be seen near the rubbish dumps, near the church, the traditional markets, and the restaurant in the five-star hotel of the capital city.
The parents have no idea about how to bring up their daughter, or their sons. She is given the greatest freedom. With the family cage widely open, she always seeks for shackles, for breaking them, and for challenges, for being buried in. She tries her hardest to disprove that life is worth it. Until she is hurt so bad that she cannot possibly ignore the beauty that the dreadful sorrow produce.
The isolation brings back a clear memory of the beauty. The isolation. Always desirable in the midst o an adult life tinged with a surfeit of lovers. At the time when she is 25, she sits on a small aircraft and crosses the Malacca Straits, to Jakarta. On her seat, she remembers that they bathed together in the hot spring hotel resort placed in some northeastern mountain of the island once named Formosa, when she needed to leave him behind to America, where she would be away from all her history. She appeased his inconsolable, which she did not quite share. She remembers they adventured together in a heavily snowy day, in a forest of Massachusetts, when they reunited happily. She remembers they traveled across Formosa, to its southeast tip, hesitant to decide which piece of tiny peninsulas was its true end, when none of the future episodes of displacement could have been predicted.
She sobs on the aircraft, not because of how much he has loved her, or how much she has never deserved his love. She cries that she embraces the isolation. That they could find each other only in history. That she embarks a life journey from the securest harbor and lighthouse she could ever have, her beloved husband, now an ex-husband forever.
She watches him cry until dawn.

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This entry was posted on November 2, 2009 by in 【Essence of Cosmos】.
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