La Ronde

Soon, he fell asleep.As usual, he had a dreamless night.

It is also the deserted late-night street after the celebration, and it is also the occasional conversation on the side of the road.Only this time, Conrad is the older man in the conversation: "Valentino is back in Paris not long after the Sande Kelva..."

Coriando looked at Conrad's dull eyes, thinking that he was remembering, and waited patiently for his next words.But the impatient young man couldn't wait for long after all: "What happened later? You were reunited in Berlin? I don't think you participated in the subsequent parade in Berlin..."

"We did not participate," Conrad coughed twice, and said with some difficulty, "because I never saw him again..."

Coriando's eyes widened: "What happened? Did he really go back to Italy to get married?"

***

The first thing Valentino did after returning to Paris was to deal with his student status.He then bid farewell to two friends who were still on good terms and who had not been deceived by the rumors about his betrayal of the revolution.

Valentino's next plan is to complete his first academic work on the theme of utopia and revolution.He has always wanted to write such a book, but he has not started writing because he always feels that there is a lack of materials. It was only after 1968 that he realized that what he lacked was a living experience.Of course, even in the study of the castle on the shore of Lake Como, he is confident that he can complete a masterpiece with clear ideas and logic, but it is without flesh and blood.

He had already typed the preface, which is still in Bamberg.Conrad may have to stay in Berlin for a long time. Considering this, Valentino decided to finish his manuscript in Berlin and take care of his family's property in Berlin by the way.He had preferred the land of the brooding.

But before going to Berlin, he still needs to go back to Milan and explain to his sister that he has no intention of getting married.This is undoubtedly difficult, because those sisters who are on the side of the Christian right cannot be persuaded.So, to be precise, he just planned to go back and inform them.

By September, the big demonstrations had all but disappeared, but small disturbances occasionally occurred.This happened to Valentino when he was leaving for the airport.The group of fanatical young men didn't see him, but when he was going to go around, one of the gloomy-looking young men suddenly spotted him, pointed at him and screamed, uttering a series of weird syllables, Like a hot nail stuck in the throat.It was followed by a name he had never heard of.He sensed that something was wrong, and before he could react, he saw the black muzzle of the gun.The burning sensation under his ribs reached the central nervous system, and then he lost consciousness.

***

"...Valentino never sent a letter, so I went to Paris to find him. I went to the high school to find a lot of students, and finally contacted a friend of his. His friend said that it was just a shotgun that hit him. , maybe he's not dead." There was a strange calm in Conrad's words.

When Coriando heard the shooting, he almost jumped up angrily, and suddenly he was puzzled: "What do you mean 'maybe he's not dead'? You don't know his condition?"

"That day, the emergency room in Paris was on strike... His friend contacted his family and dispatched a military ambulance. After that, I didn't hear from him..." Conrad skipped him to find Valenti promise process.He has seen the dense fog in Milan in autumn, and the towering snow-capped mountains beside Lake Como in winter.Standing in front of the deepest lake in the world, he wholeheartedly restrained the desire to jump into that depth, because he knew that even if he crossed such a depth, he would still not be able to see Valentino.

Although Conrad's tone was indifferent, Coriando touched the ashes after his emotions were burned out in his pause and silence, and he murmured: "My God, I'm sorry for what happened to you..."

Conrad was shocked when he saw the tears in the child's eyes. He waved his hand and said, "Don't feel sorry for me. After 40 years, I can accept it."

He smiled slightly, his wrinkles folded together, and his tone was like reciting a poem: "Blessed are those who endure suffering. Our light to temporary suffering will achieve great eternal glory."*1

Coriando still held back his words for fear of making a choking sound.He doesn't know what blessings can be exchanged for being separated from his lover for life. Suffering is just suffering.But he also knew that who would endure life without giving meaning to suffering?

"Okay, boy, don't be so uncomfortable. Maybe I lied to you? Europeans know that the [-]s and [-]s like to tell stories the most. The story time is over, and I should go home." The old man tried his best to relax road.

Only then did Coriando realize that it might be early morning.He slapped his head angrily: "I haven't seen the new graffiti on the other side of the street, nor have I participated in the parade! Although there will be more tomorrow, it must not be as crowded as today!"

"Son, it seems that you didn't listen to the story carefully." Conrad stood up slowly. "It doesn't matter at all whether you participate in the parade or not. What matters is whether the struggle against your own identity continues."

Coriando watched him stand up, and followed suit: "You are right, the key is to be an unidentified person!...Are you leaving? I'll take you back!"

Conrad said his home was close, so he rejected Coriando's proposal.

He was walking alone on the way home, and realized in the night mist that this cold loneliness was not limited to these few steps, but throughout the rest of his life.

When I got home and took a shower, the clock showed that it was two o'clock in the morning.At this time on weekdays, he was already sound asleep, but tonight he was not sleepy yet.He turned on the TV, changed several channels in a row, and suddenly saw a familiar face, the blue-eyed French man in a neat suit, talking calmly to the camera: "Of course, we should radically fight for immigrants, workers, etc. , women, children or homosexuals. But the so-called radical definitely does not mean blindly fighting against the mainstream, but a thorough criticism of injustice..."

The reporter in the audience asked: "Mr. de Villey, you also wrote about 68 years in your autobiography. What do you think of 68 years?"

"Oh, thank you for your question. There is no doubt that it was a failed revolution and we should not glorify it, but it was a successful improvement for the working class..."

Conrad sneered and turned off the TV again.It was only when he returned to Paris to find Valentino that he found out who had spread the rumors that he and Valentino had defected to the revolution, so that they had to leave Paris, but it was pointless to pursue the matter.Thinking of this, the disappointment and frustration of these years came to my heart again.

The white-haired Angora cat jumped on him and barked twice, as if wondering why the owner was still awake.

He smoothed the cat and carried it into the room: "Valentine, let's watch some good things together tonight."

He put down the cat, took out a key from a small cloth bag deep in the drawer, dragged out the bottom one among the iron boxes piled up under the table, and inserted the key into the lock hole.

Perhaps because it hadn't been opened for a long time, he took some effort to lift the lid.Valentine watched Conrad work without blinking, occasionally licking his paw.

Inside the box were a crystal cufflink, a pink bow tie that could be seen vaguely, and a stack of yellowed manuscripts.Valentine looked at the cufflink, the crystal light reflected in its light blue cat eyes.

Conrad took out the stack of manuscripts, including sketches and book manuscripts.He picked up a charcoal sketch of a young man standing sideways with his fists clenched beside the barricade, with smooth and natural lines.It's just that there is obviously a trace that doesn't match the overall style of the picture - there is an extra tear under the corner of the boy's eye, and it can be easily seen that it was painted later.

On the back of the painting is written in beautiful italics: "You are a flight of divinity, and the moment when the dice are thrown... My heart is a dance hall of chance, or just a gambling table. "

When Conrad noticed it, there was already another tear on the painting.He quickly and carefully put the painting back, and Valentine watched in silence, his fluffy tail sweeping back and forth.

He locked the box, drove Valentine out of the room, and turned off the bedside lamp after lying on the bed.The curtains were not drawn properly, and moonlight seeped in through the gaps.He remembered the night 40 years ago, after he had a strange dream, he decided that the man next to his pillow was his acquired father.And the man just said, "Every man should be his own father..."

Only now did he understand that it was not an expectation, but a fact, and it was an inescapable destiny for individuals.Revolution is a large round dance that dazzles cities, love is a double dance that dazzles individuals.Every dance step infused with vitality leads not to greater passion, but to eternal loneliness, because the dance will eventually end.When the dancers, audience, lights and music disappear, everyone has to step off the stage and live a life that completely bears their own weight.

Loneliness is certainly cold, but it is also stronger and more stable than anything else.In solitude, he grew a new part, the part that once belonged only to Valentino.

Soon, he fell asleep.As usual, he had a dreamless night.

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That's it, thank you all for reading!There should be an afterword tonight, and I will refine the full text later when I have time.

And after finishing writing, I can finally ask for a message without the burden... Looking forward to everyone's message exchange :)

*1 From "New Testament" 4 Corinthians 17:[-]

Original: Corinthians 4: 17 For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us aneternal glory that far outweighsthemall.