Sometimes I think. Sometimes I don’t.

 

[Switzerland] Daddy's dreamland

Pre

  This one dedicates to my dad.

  The title sounds like Lolita tone...Actually this trip was 4 years ago when I killed the high school entrance test. About 15 to 16 then, the girl who only had read few books but thought she'd read the world already, and she'd never been 10 miles from her country so far. 

  That was the first time with my king who's never grown up enough.


-


(*this pic is the Alps)


Factually, the first destination of the trip was Paris. A raining Paris in her blue. But when we took a careful look at the heart of France, I realized that I didn't even have a decent phone to frame her with me. Strangely, my dad didn't quite like Paris, so did his big camera. He watched me wandering on Champs Elysées and said, "Paris ain't get a glimpse from your mum."


?????ugh. Then you should've taken my mum here rather than me, monsieur.


...he probably had read fairy tales before me or more probably, he just wanted to test my temper. Well, so much for Paris, since he never likes her. Maybe I'll do a closeup of her later in the collection. 


Around the core of Europe, Switzerland was a small country but indeed delicate. To me this fine is never like that of Japan or anywhere one could mention; I don't even call Paris delicate cuz it sounds too pretentious for her past greatness, she's just been degenerate after her tiredness of restless glory. I don't get why those bloody couples all happened to show off beneath Eiffel Tower, beside the Seine, or under Arc de Triomphe.....it doesn't have to be in Paris....once I saw a local Frenchman running his morning routine along the Seine. City of Romance, of Art, of Fashion or Whatever, it doesn't have to be Paris. Can she ever turn your whatever into eternity? For the love of France, she can't even turn herself into it.


Paris is too public to control all sorts of love; Paris is so personal that she reminded my dad of my mum though they'd never seen her before. 


Adieu, Paris, vous êtes au mauvais endroit. Vous êtes si belle pour la tienne.


Oh damn, I was supposed to focus on Switzerland. The first day there we went to the Alps and I'm in the university library now, describing the snow there in Hogwarts-like rusted yellow light. From our sight ina cable cell above the hillside, the mountain seemed to grow more awake upwards while more humane downwards, for there was only snow on the top, brushing a elusive greenish whiteness like a delicate lady, whereas villages, small lakes and herds around the foothill. I watched my dad trying to frame few faint cooking smoke in his camera. I just raised my head along the direcrion of splendidly twisted ridge, where was a wonderland above but nothing human was left. The holy coldness wandered, waking the bones beneath my skin. 


Be like snow, beautiful but cold. But back then, I could be listening toTaylor Swift for the whole driving hours on the road across Europe, which results in my absolutely entire desertion of her since then.


"You never appreciate human things, sad."

"Then why I listed Paris and Rome on our plan?"

"There's full of static architecture with immortal art in it! The point is,you're only into what has already become solid eternity, what can be touched and felt through time that killed who created it. Those people are not your interests, what you love is just those solid works hundreds of years after their death. See? that's so inhuman."

"........."


Well, I remained tacitly silence towards his brilliant argument about my "inhumanity".




I bet that was the first time I ever saw this blue in my life.


Interlaken is a small town. Despite its cool color tone, people were intimate in their special tough way. From the stance of everyone, the outline of Alps glowed in half cloud half snow, like a natural fairy. I entered a local café, wherein the World Cup was competing on TV, the crowd full of adults and kids screaming with whole concentration. Soon enough we were in them. 


It was strange. I was never a football fan but this passion just touched me, a kind of passion that ignited the fire inside me, burning for some unknown reason. I felt I'd grown into a part of it. The feeling spread in no prerequisite of being able to speak German. I bet we both got it under skin.


Later the sunset fell, colouring a greenish blue up the town like the bedroom of the Fairy Alps. The clear stars lied in drunkness at the edge of sky. In a countryside bar, I was drinking beer with the waitress at the bar, who caught herself in narrative about her local flowers and all sorts of manual beer. "The beer made from machinhe is not the real beer."she said proudly. She's got a round pink face of small townand a intimately warmhearted tone. 


My dad left the bar before the short rain. I finished my beer and walked back with the umbrella the waitress lent me, then I saw him reading his weekly military magazine in bed, giving me a quick smiling glimpse and suggesting the chocolate cake he left for me on the table. 


At that very moment I realized that his indeed prepares a home aftermy fun time. He is the only man who sees me in pictureque dimensions. Once he listed everything I had been crazy about in orders. Though, he never wants me to be a home girl. 


Partly he is the reason why the road stops becoming more lonesometo me ahead.





-10/3/2018, 9 pm Minneapolis.











































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