Sunday, September 28, 2014

Video-The Island

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mKZd8QHkj6k&feature=youtu.be



We have been here on the island for two weeks. I woke up early this morning; when I came out, he was just sitting in front of the easel. He is really old and taciturn.

[I come a little bit closer in order to watch the painting clearly. ]

“Are you sad?”

“Sad?”

[he turns to me, but his eyes are looking at another point right behind me ]

"I am not sad, girl, you don’t understand.”

I know what he was looking at—my grandma’s flowers.
This old man is my seventy-year-old step grandpa Patrick. I have never met him before because he and my grandma moved to this island fifteen years ago.
However, a few weeks ago, my grandma died.
My mom said she had no father when she was born, and her sixth birthday party was where my grandma and Patrick fell in love.
He loved my grandma so much, and promised that he would take her to everywhere she want, and never leave her alone. He did, actually, right after I was born, they came here.
Every morning Patrick would make two cups of coffee, and set up his easel out on the mountain. He always works in the morning, before the sunrise. I don’t know why, maybe it is just one of the artist’s weird eccentricities.

“Do you miss her?”

“Look at mountain, what can you see?”

[He points at one of the conner of the painting.]

“Trees. What is that mean?”

[I look straight into his eyes, but he is still looking at somewhere else.]

“We planted them, me and Joanna, your grandma. Now they are as old as you are.”

[He smiles]

“ and look at the sky; you can distinguish the colors. The clouds are not just white and grey; there are yellow, lilac, pink, and sapphire. And look at the sea water, there are beige, gold, and navy blue. We used to argue a lot about the colors. I am the painter, but Joanna always won. She was very sensitive on the colors, and that did make her really excited and talk about them for the whole day.”

[He puts down his pen, and sinks into memory.]

“The first time I met her was forty years ago. I was just some guy who traveled through the town, and going to find my uncle in the next village, but I saw her. She had amazing brown hair as a waterfall was poured from the sky, her cherry-like mouth, attractive eyes, and my favorite white dress."

Past

J" Hi, where are you from?"

P " XXX, just a stupid village, never mind."

P " so you live here?"

J " yeah, with my daughter, I just came out and water those plants, they are crazy, don't they?"

P " They do...wait, you are married?"

J " I did, actually. He was just...just gone."

P "oh...I am sorry."

J "That's ok, it has been many years. It's a long story."

P "I'm willing to hear all about you."

[Sitting on a bench]

J " we loved each other for ten years, we were happy. But as time passes, there were just something, stupid things, but no one said. But then all of those things piled up together, and for a while, we really could not understand each other at all. So after he met another beautiful woman who was younger than me, he just left to somewhere I would never know."

J " I raise my daughter by myself, day after day, I was exhausted, and even thought about giving up. But I can't, I am her mom, I would never leave her alone."

J " But it is so hard..."

P" maybe you can find someone to rely on."

J " I know...I tried, but every time after they knew about my daughter, they gave up."

P" Maybe I can stay..."

Present
"I can never forget that smile; I loved her with my whole life since the first second I saw her.”

“I don’t even know her much,”
“ I am glad to hear these.”

“ You remind me of her, girl.”

[he gets the pen again, and adds a little black on it,]

“she liked to stay here with me and talked whatever appeared in her head.”
“ Joanna missed you a lot. Every time she found there were some kids playing in the water she would start telling me about your mom in her childhood and you brother when he was little, and you, who she was not lucky enough to take care of.”

[Patrick paints some little black outlines of people on the beach. They are playing together, water fight maybe.]

“ But you asked me if I miss her,”

[he stares at the sea water with smile in his eyes, ]

“ No, I don’t.”
“She is just like the low tide in the morning; the new leaves of an old tree that we used to planted; the soft wind fly though my hair.”
“She is a part of my world.”

[He adds two people leaning together behind others.]

“She is a part of me.”

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