|瓦哈拉的塗鴉簿 La danse de Puck (Apr 18, 12)|
I was an officer in a military academy when I knew the girl. It was a period of time when there was no goal or meaning for my life. “Boyfriend Wanted. Send picture and resume.” That was a small ad I saw on a newspaper. Since I had so much time to spare, I responded:
“I am a young, healthy male who is a professionally trained killing machine skilled at melee combat, small arms, close range fighting, and a qualified platoon commander. Have time. Can read and write. Civilize me.”
I had also attached a picture of me in uniform, and asked the girl unseen to send her picture, to be fair. I got a letter with a picture. That was a girl in a recital dress with a shining silver flute on her hands.
I never knew why the girl posted such ad. She was never short of boys around so maybe it was the friend part she missed. She was gifted, and attractive enough for males to do all sorts of stunts to please her. The girl just watched, indifferently, and never intervened. She could engage in independent conversations with two boys, at the same time, in the same place, like performing counterpoint music.
The girl got a talent to show the beauty of her body by twisting, extending, jumping, and swirling. Nobody could take his eyes away from her when she danced. I still kept a picture of her when she raised one hand, eyes followed, and tilted her chin upward. That moment was just frozen into a time capsule.
“Play a song for me,” I asked. She took out her instrument, and played some melody.
“Solo part of a Mozart quartet,” said the girl. I had never heard such beautiful sound.
“Can you stand under my balcony, like a soldier guarding a castle?” asked the girl out of nowhere.
“Why? You have some concerns of safety about where you live?” I said, “I know some influential people in this area.” And I began to search for the name of my friends back in junior high. I hoped they were not in jail.
“Not like that,” the girl said. “It’s Cinema Paradiso, ” she paused, “Never mind.”
The girl, like many other, loved to create a labyrinth, waited for someone to overcome, and won her over. A fool ventured, because he had too much confidence. A romantic fool ventured, even if he knew he had very little chance. A wise man did not venture. He ignored all rules, went straight to the target, grabbed the girl, and slapped on her butt. I was neither fool nor wise, just a little too romantic.
I realized I lost the game. The harder I tried to impress her, the less funny my jokes became. The relationship went nowhere, maybe for good. Some atoms could form stable chemical bond. Some just came, twirled, and went to different direction. A good Bloody Mary was strong yet delicate and balanced. Without the right balance it was tasted just like a bad tomato consommé with too much residual alcohol.