Chapter 7 Section VI

On the way to the seaside, Jean-Marc passed a bus stop.There was only one girl in a T-shirt and jeans at the station.She wasn't enthusiastic, but visibly twitched her hips as if dancing.When he walked into the girl, he saw her open mouth.The big hole swayed slightly on her mechanically twisting body.Jean-Marc thought: she's dancing, and besides, she's tired of life. He came to the seawall and looked around: on the beach, those men were fighting with their heads up.Their hearts are full of passion.Jean-Marc came to his three conclusions. There are three types of boredom: one is passive boredom, like the girl yawning while dancing over there; One is rebellious weariness, which is the case with young people who burn cars and smash the windows of shops.

Those teenagers wear big colorful helmets on their tiny bodies.They were clustered around some oddly shaped carts; simple in construction: two iron bars fastened into a cross, with one wheel in front and two behind.In the middle of the car is a long and slatted carriage that can just accommodate one person.Above the carriage stood a mast with its sails outstretched.Why are those kids wearing helmets?It must be that sport is dangerous, it must be.Jean-Marc thought to himself: In fact, the most dangerous people driving that kind of car should be those who are walking.But why is no one providing them with helmets?For those who are not willing to participate in the activities of rest are deserters in the fierce and frequent struggle against boredom.They don't deserve to be cared, so they don't deserve helmets either.

He walked down the seawall along the steps and walked towards the sea. Along the waterline that was gradually lost in the distance, he carefully searched among the crowd while walking, trying his best to identify the blurred outlines in the distance. With Chantal.Finally, he recognized it.Chantal, who had stopped to look at the distant waves, the ship, and the clouds in the sky. He passed the children who were being led by the coach into the sail car and began to drive slowly in a circle.The other sailboats were racing in their own directions around them.This kind of leather only relies on the sail on the rope to keep straight or change direction to avoid pedestrians.But are those bumbling amateurs really capable of controlling that sail?Will the car really respond to the driver's wishes without making mistakes?

Jean-Marc watched the sailing cars.Suddenly, he saw one of the taxis driving towards Chantal at a speed like a racing car, and he couldn't help frowning.The driver of that car was an elderly man, lying in the car like an astronaut in a rocket.Lying like that, he couldn't see anything in front of him at all!Was Chantal vigilant enough to stay sane?He began to blame her, for her overly casual personality.At the same time, he also quickened his pace. She turned back halfway, but it was impossible for her to see Jean-Marc, because her demeanor was still unhurried.The manner of a woman in deep thought.She walked forward without turning her eyes.He wanted to yell at her to stop being so distracted and to watch out for those stupid cars that were driving on the beach.Suddenly, a picture appeared in his mind: Chantal was knocked down by the car, lying on the beach, her blood kept gushing out.But the car that caused the accident has disappeared at the end of the beach.He saw himself rushing towards her.The uneasiness caused by that vision made him actually start calling Chantal's name.The wind was so strong and the beach was so wide that no one could hear his cries.He could only stop that emotional exaggeration.Tears slid from the corners of his eyes.He cries for her.His face contorted convulsively from crying.He experienced the fear of her death, though that fear lasted only for a moment.

Before long, he was shocked by his sudden hysteria.He saw her still walking nonchalantly, calmly, gracefully, and firmly in the distance.He couldn't help but smile when he thought of the funny farce he had performed just now for the loss of the one he loved the most.It was an unapologetic smile.Because ever since he fell in love with her, he was afraid that one day Chantal would leave him.Now he was really running and waving his hands at her.At that moment, she stopped again and turned to face the sea.She didn't notice the man waving his hands vigorously, but quietly looked at the distant ship.

At last, when she turned in his direction, she seemed to see him; and again he raised his arms joyfully.But he immediately discovered that she still didn't see him.Once again, she turned her eyes to the beach caressed by the sea and the coastline faintly visible in the distance.Gazing at her profile, Jean-Marc realized that all he could recognize was the silk scarf on her head that was used to tie her hair.As he approached (his steps suddenly eased), the woman he thought was Chantal grew older and uglier.She is not Chantal at all!