The girls are always saying that they keep an eye on me and that I should have noticed them and know them. But I cannot remember that I had met them before, that even having a talk with them could be only a whim for a greeting that has been suppressed now, that the experience could be only once in a blue moon even I long for. Maybe they fear that cold mountain style cruel world would hurt me, and that with the distance they keep, it serves to protect me. This obsessed me for quite a long time when I was still developing the view upon the outside world from my university years. When later I learned to know that girls sometimes change because they are growing up. They have a new world to navigate, and that world excites their young hearts to totally engage in themselves. Things would be different from the moment on.
The moon I see in Lyon was hanging upon the steeple by the sky of a hillside church in the early evening. The long shadow was cast behind me in a summer night of depressing atmosphere. The cafeteria had just been selling out their last green vegetable dish to a late coming female overseas student. The bakery then was extending their hands to open a welcome door with fresh French bread delivered to a tourist like me. The night was still young.
The moon I see in Interlaken was beside the mountain from the balcony of the Bellevue Hotel, hanging above the running water, so fresh and so clear in the sky. The river bank painted with a little boy playing ball by the riverside, which could remind the tourists that children could be drown in the torrent of the rushed water if they were not careful enough with the adult nearby. That was sort of sad situation, and it was the memory of the moon on the balcony of a hotel in Switzerland.
DB, November 23, 2012