Chapter 44 The Fireplace of Song of India

One day, I will grow old and stop writing.For me, this is definitely unrealistic and impossible.And ridiculous. Once, something really happened to me.I can't write anymore.This is during alcohol treatment.I remember very clearly that I was in an American hospital①.I stood by the window and Jan supported me.I was looking at the red roof across the way and saw a woman, blond hair, blue eyes, coming out of a fireplace chimney, and her husband, the captain in Song of India, panicking, looking at the sky , he came out of another fireplace chimney.I wept, and as the obvious fact penetrated my body and mind, I told Jan that it would be impossible for me to write any more.It was sincere and true, I was in so much pain that even now I remember it clearly.However, even so, the illusion of the fireplace has not completely disappeared.These visions were also focusing on my pain at the time.

①The American hospital was opened in Paris. The author became ill from drinking and was hospitalized more than once. After returning from the American hospital, I immediately tried to write in my notebook.I write out what I hear as it is, with a pen in my hand, and write.At the beginning, I couldn't organize the sentences, so I continued to write and keep writing.But where did this new pseudo-writing come from? — as if emerging from a hole under the house after the steps have been raised — as if from the hand of a five-year-old child, appearing out of nowhere, ink-stained, messy, and written by a sinner Yes, sinner, why not.

I was trying to write a book, as I was writing and speaking as I was then.I felt that some words appeared in a trance from my mind, faintly visible.In all the words, from the outside, it seems that nothing is said and nothing is said. The things in life are there in the first place without us knowing it.That is impossible to grasp.You told me the other day that life is often characterized by repeated alternating situations.My feeling is exactly this: my life is a film that repeats and alternates. If it is not arranged well, it is not well acted, it is not well organized, in a word, it is a big mistake.Since it's bipolar, there's no murder, no cops, no victims, no theme, nothing.With such conditions, a real film could have been formed, but no, there is only falsehood.You see, if it wasn't that, it could be something.I wish I could stand on the stage without saying anything or moving, just watching and not thinking about anything.That's right.

It is too late in life to draw lessons from what has been lived.You see.If only someone dared to say that to themselves, I will listen and I will write it.Finding that you are happy with a man afterwards does not necessarily prove that you have love for him.In memory, it was not so forceful, so eloquent, compared to the obviousness of my face to love.The men I love the most are the men I cheat the most. Sometimes, even often, that is to say most of the time, the comedy of love is almost beneficial to both spouses.My opinion on this has changed.Most people live together because the fear of living together can be reduced, or because the income of two people is better than that of one person, or because they have children, or because of various inexplicable reasons, they can’t say no. A clear reason can also be expressed as a choice, although there is no reason for the choice, and an unclear reason can also be expressed as a clear position, although this position is at least difficult to express, if not impossible.Or: "I'm still here, I don't know why, I have no other choice." These people, they are not in love with each other, but they already have that love in each other.The reason can be one or the other, and there must be a practical reason, or convenience as a reason, to love someone, and in this way, it is already love.Most of the time, it is not publicly declared, and undoubtedly not recognized, and on such occasions, it should also belong to the scope of love.This type of love will only be confessed when it comes to death.Sometimes people are very worried about certain spouses: the man is rough, like a beast, and makes the woman suffer, and she has to complain.Such spouses are misunderstood.It is also generally wrong to think that this kind of love is not included in the sphere of love.Bernard Pivot once asked me: what bound me to that Chinese lover; I said: money.Perhaps I might add that the car was a hell of a comfort, like a living room.And the driver.Cars, drivers, all at their disposal.And the sensuality of squeezed silk, and his skin, a lover's skin.These are the conditions of love, I loved him, if you will, and then I left him, no doubt someone told me that this young man committed suicide and disappeared into the sea, at such a time, it is very true of.I knew about it, in the middle of a trip.I think that love can only coexist with love. People cannot love alone on their own side. I don't believe in such things. I don't believe in living alone and experiencing a desperate love.He loves me that way, of course I love him that way, he desires me that way, of course I desire him too.It's impossible to love someone you don't like at all, someone you hate. I don't believe in such a thing.

①The host of Paris TV station.