A Lover's Discourse by Xiaolu Guo

Author:Xiaolu Guo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grove Atlantic
Published: 2020-09-28T19:33:06+00:00

FIVE

下

DOWN

Surf

– I miss this light, and these waves. I used to be a surfer, but now I don’t remember the last time I was in the water on a board.

– But you told me your knees hurt when you surf.

Queensland in November. It was summertime in this part of the world. The days were very long here. Time seemed to be stretched. The train from Brisbane airport to Cleveland took centuries to arrive. The sunrays painted leaves inky green, black-and-white magpies stood on treetops mysteriously. The train dragged itself along slowly. So few people were on it. A sense of self-abandonment was diluted in the hot air. The train seemed to know there was no reason to hurry, as if there was not much going on at the end of the line.

A burnt forest came into view as the train moved along. The earth was black, like in a horror movie. You stared at the passing scene, pondering something beyond words. For you, it must have been a sentimental but alienating trip: you left this land so long ago. Everything must be familiar but also foreign. Sitting opposite us were a dark girl and a white boy, kissing. I wondered if she was Aboriginal. She was young, perhaps sixteen or seventeen? After a while, the lovers looked a bit bored, and opened a packet of crisps. A void in their eyes.

In the distance, the sea appeared. The real blue foamy sea, without much algae, without the ducklings we had lived with side by side. This was a sea with strong oceanic swells, and occasional dangerous aquatic life.

‘I miss this light,’ you said, ‘and these waves. I used to be a surfer, but now I don’t remember the last time I was in the water on a board.’

‘But you told me your knees hurt when you surf.’

‘That’s bullshit. The reason I don’t do it is that there are no decent waves in Britain. You wouldn’t call them waves. The breaks are too small. The water in Europe is sad. There’s no real blue in it.’

The water in Europe is sad. I thought of what you said. If so, the water in China was even sadder. On our coast there were so many rusted hulks, abandoned factories, beaches crowded with people stripping them of seaweed and shellfish. The sea was grey and churned up like a dirty and crinkled canvas. I wondered what you would say if I took you to China.

Working-class Paradise

– Have you heard Australia is called a working-class paradise?

– A working-class paradise?

– I didn’t understand it when we lived here. But now, I agree with the cliché, if I had to compare it with the working class in Britain or in America.

We arrived at Coochiemudlo Island. It was near Moreton Bay by the Port of Brisbane, in the South Pacific. You told me Coochiemudlo is an Aboriginal name. It means red rocks. ‘It’s very small, only five square kilometres,’ you warned me. I checked it on the map before we left the mainland.

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