Philosophical Imagination, Aesthetics, and Creative Writing

Author: Lou Hsienhua

  • Remembering the Unrememberable

    Partings and sorrowfulness are things worth remembering instead of forgetting, perhaps, for to live is to remember the unrememberable.

    That was about a late autumn evening when I came out of the library that the reddening glow of the sun vanishing bit by bit. There were breezes coming from the lake beside the road. For so many years in my life I haven’t seen such warming and loving a scene of sun-setting that even the mere looking at the red round sun moving afar and down could make me unable to think out of the unthinkable past inside my heart.

    I knew why I was vulnerable to sunset. Same is the place where I was walking alone to another walk I have had years ago when the person companioning me then was still studying in this university. Now it’s me alone in this campus. Maybe it’s late to reminisce about those walkings-along.

    A lot of people beside the lake bank were photographing the sun with some who ride bikes making a stop to memorize this moment. What has been memorized?

    I bought some oranges and packed milks after a dinner of stir-fried noodles, thinking it would be healthy to have some fruit for I haven’t been having fruit for about a month. It’s very easy for a person to forget to take some fruits, especially for those economically strained for the price of fruit has been steadily risen.

    Days have become much shorter in colder seasons. After walking back to the library with almost a river of people passing me by, I find an place beside a tree to sit down and take my fruit and milk out to eat. There were many bikes parked in lines before me. The light is dark so those passing me by would not see clear that I was eating.

    Before me is a girl who also ate and whose head bent a bit low. It’s not a particular thinking for me to find that the girl’s manner of eating had reminded me of another colleague of mine who has been friendly. Her signature smile to almost every one made me think of the sunset I’d seen hours before that day.

    Though it was not a particular evening that I have taken some photos to record, Yet, looking at the photo is still something hard to forget.

    In the evening, a soft voice from a girl trying to record the sunset went on: why am I unable to depict the sunset as it is?

  • 秋日的夜

    by Tome Loulin

    从理发店出来后，望着月光下的校园，深秋的晚夜，路上零星有些行人，湖边是寒雾，飘到夜路间。理发店的洗发师领着我进去，他微笑着，许久没有见陌生人对自己微笑过，好像偶尔抬头看到完满的月亮。洗头的时候，温水冲淋着我的头发，他的手好像也感到了些凉意，“哎。“他似乎自责道，又把水温调高了些。其实冷水我也可以洗，只是很久没感受过这样的温度，心中全是棱角分明的方块在碰撞着。“因为压力大了些，所以头……”我没往下说。“不会的。”他立刻回道。沉默中，自己好似冲刷在这暖潮里，正好流过水池的水也是温热的。

    “不要把学习看的太紧了，压力太大了对身体不好。”他轻声说着。

    “嗯，的确是这样的。”我回复道。

    “以前在学校的时候，有感触，学习之余要多放松。你们现在有电脑，不一定玩游戏，偶尔看视频放松一下对身体也好。”他又说道。

    温热的水流在发间流过，人闭上眼睛后就像在另一个世界，眼皮覆盖的视野，一切都是暗红色，黑色，他说话是协商似的口吻。也不是很特别的嘱咐，在那狭小的世界里，心中却好似有股暗潮涌过，自己很久不流眼泪了，但还是很知道这特别的滋味。

    头发短些了，感受到的夜寒也深了些。薄雾的夜路间，一边是高大的树木，一边是栅栏外的车流，大部分时候都是我自己一人行走着。路灯下是模糊的影。从一条小路间走到回宿舍的大路边，寂静的树林间，暗绿色的草叶，有些像聊斋里的背景，自己好像不在现代，在古代。一人独自夜行，背一些行囊，无任何盘缠，黑暗中，也可能碰见别的什么来。古代的荒野间是所谓的江湖，好在自己只是匆匆过客，一切也不太沉重，那暗林间的石子路。

    想起陶渊明的田园诗歌，不知，夜深的山林间，是否也是这样，冷淡间的独特感受呢？也许是幽静中带些深沉的想象，古代诗人的避世情节倒是比较容易满足；独自徘徊的时候，前路好似就如前方那幽暗的树林一样，宁静中带着些自己的想象。我们也要快乐一些。

    独自徘徊夜径边，远槐幽然明月天。沉寂的秋夜里，白色的夜光，正好是明月将圆的时候，夜深也不太暗淡。

  • Late Autumn Reflections

    by Tome Loulin

    It is dark in the night that I walk and walk after having my hair cut. “Because of the stressful lifestyles I was living, I am worried about this.” I murmured worryingly, gazing in the mirror reflecting my curved brows in the dim-lit room. “Don’t over worry about that.” The hairstylist beside me had consoled me saying. While lying on the hair-washing bed, feeling the warmth both of the water and of his hands touching my hair, I started to think of my family. “Besides learning things and reading books, try to have some relax because if you always read you will get bored perhaps even ill.” He continued, still washing my hair, softly. It’s because this hair saloon is located in our university campus that these staffers are hospitable while, quite contrary, if one goes outside of university, he may mostly experience certain kind of hostile and degraded services. “Yes, we students really need to take this easier for our health is the top priority and thank you.”

    The hairstylist kept talking about the importance of having some recreational activities during university years. “Looking back in my own time in school, I always feel having some rest is important and sometimes I had been climbing off the walls that meant to prevent us from sneaking out of the dorms in order to play video games.” He said murmuringly. It has reminded me of some of my former classmates in my middle school years. Their innocence. Their lives. ‘Yeah, you said truly. We should have to get things a bit easier.” I replied, otherwise, it may prove to be too painful to go on living. To go on living.

    So misty is the trails in the forestry park in our campus that while walking through the trial I felt as if turned back to ancient when there were scary hearsays intended to scary those who travel in the night: the possibility of getting caught by ghosts and robbers etc.
    But with such a serene night, I feel for the first time after enrolled to my graduate school a sense of liberation, away from the external pressure, the pressure to be living up to others’ expectations and demands in order to have my humanness recognized. Walking alone on the roads in the night where other persons can seldomly be seen is sanity-saving. One needs no one to confirm his or her wholesomeness in order to feel loved and worthy of self-loving, instead, we need only our own bodies under completely our own control.

    So loving is the people-less road where I am walking in the night that I start to feel being alone is another form of becoming free, free from others’ judgmental eyes, free from their watchful eyes. Today, we start, truly start to care of ourselves and those who love us truly, mutually, unconditionally as intense as tonight’s mist. This deep autumn night. This cold misty and beautiful night.