A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers by Xiaolu Guo

Author:Xiaolu Guo
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Anchor Books
Published: 0100-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

hero n. 1. the principal character in a film, book, etc.; 2. a man greatly admired for his exceptional qualities or achievements.

hero

You feel happy again, your mood is like English weather.

You are in the peace, like the fruit tree without flowers in the garden. You are happy because you start to make a new sculpture. So now dirt and mess everywhere in the house. It is like living in a construction site. Clay and plaster and wax and water. Your happiness is from your own world, from your physical object, from the molded male head, male arms, male leg, male attraction…Your happiness is from your masculine world, and in that world you feel everything is under the control.

Your sadness actually is nothing to do with me. Your stress is not really from me. It is from your masculine world, because you don’t feel satisfied with your life as a man. And you might think I am an obstacle in your life. You think your sadness caused by our relationship, by love prison. It is not true. Your happiness and your sadness is from the world that you fight with yourself.

My love to you is like a lighthouse, always searching something special about you. And you are special. But I don’t know if you think me in the same way. You always say things like these to me:

“How did you burn the rice again? A Chinese woman shouldn’t burn rice, you eat it everyday.”

“I spend more time with you than with my friends. Why do you still complain? What else do you want?”…

It seems you don’t treat me as a special person in your life. You treat me as one of your friends. And there is a line you draw between you and me. There is a limit, from your heart, from your lifestyle, which makes love feels like a friendship. You live inside of me, but I don’t live inside of you.

You said Frida Kahlo is one of your heroes. Of course I knew that. I knew that from your book shelf. I knew that because I knew your heroes are always in pain, and died of young.

In nobody’s London Fields, I sit on a chair, and read about Frida Kahlo again. I want understand you, and I want understand your twisted nude lying on the ground of your garden.

Frida, her body falling apart when she was alive. Her bones were being smashed by the bus accident. Death had been eating her everyday until one day nothing is fresh left. Again I see your naked man lying down on the ground. Your twisted statue, how similar to Frida’s body in her painting.

In your world, I am losing my world. In your pain, I am losing myself. Everything makes me thinking about you, only about you and your world. I am like a wallpaper stick on the wall of your house, looking at you and decorating your life. “Don’t bury me, burn me. I don’t want to lie down anymore,” Frida lay on the bed and said to her husband.

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