Chapter 45 Sound in "Night Boat"

In "Night Boat" it is sound that forms things, desires and emotions.The sound is richer than the scene where the physical body is present.That is the human face, the human look, the smile.A real letter can also haunt the soul, because the letter is spoken and written with the voice of speaking.I have received letters which have aroused my affection for the writer, but it is evident that replying to them is impossible. ① A film made by the author of "Night Boat" in 1978. Jan, I wrote back.I saw him at a screening of "Song of India" in Gang City, met Jan.There were many of us going to a coffee shop in groups.For Young, I was first and foremost the author of Songs of India, the woman who made Anna-Marie Strait tell about the boredom and troubles of living in India, and Michael Richardson, Lol V. Stein, the beggar ②, all these people go back to their roots, and for Jan, that was me, and it was because of these people that he came to Trouville.When he began to read these books, he went into a state of surprise ecstasy, and he wrote to me like everyone else, and I didn't reply.But one day, I actually wrote him a reply.I remember very clearly the day I wrote the letter.I have only one idea, which is to tell this young student Okajo "how difficult it is for me to live" in a letter to him.I told him I was in the hospital because I drank too much, and I didn't know why I drank like that.

① Gangcheng is in the Calvados province in northern France on the brink of the English Channel.Michael Richardson, Song of India; also in The Madness of Noel V. Stein (1964); The Beggar, in Song of India, the novel The Vice-Consul "(1965) have appeared. January 1980.I am sixty-six years old.You were there, Jérôme Beaujour, and it happened.I was in a very serious state of mental tension.People told me to take antidepressants, but I didn't tell my doctor that I was an alcoholic.This caused me to faint several times a day for three days.I was taken to Saint-Germain-en-Laye Hospital late one night.and so on.It was this time when I came back from the hospital that I wrote a letter to Jan, a man I didn't know, just because he wrote me a lot of letters—I kept them all, and they were wonderful.Then, one day, seven months later, he called me and asked if he could come.It was summer.Just hearing the sound, I knew it was going to be crazy.I said to him on the phone: Come on.He quit his job and left his home.So he stayed and did not go.It's been six years now.