Last time I was sitting on a train was in Germany. I saw a deer, jumping into the forrest. The first time I got on the train in Germany was in Frankfurt am Main, I stuck with a German football coach, “Wald” was the only word that I could remember in German. He said I spoke great German. Yes, Wald, Welt.
I sat on my red suitcase, fell asleep.
Then I saw the deer, it was another time. The jumping deer. I’m sure she saw the train, but how can I be sure it’s a “she”? The beauty absorbed me, or my soul. Keith said, it’s death drive. Yes, I wished to die in that peaceful forrest, frightening deer running around, turning her head at me, touching my dead body with her moist nose.
They say, Europe is haunted by millions of dead souls, ghosts, the land is not peaceful, somehow, it contains riot.
Now, there are bushes out of the window, and desert, yellow sands, and lizard, that’s also death.
Everything is exposed under the sun. The same sun European see, Chinese see. She saw everything. How do I know it’s “she”? In German, it is.
Desert offers despair. Each item is whitened.
A Russian talks on the phone in front of me, loudly in Hebrew with heavy Russian accent. Then, several Russian phone calls. Yet, another miserable nation.
So the elder guy next to me is reading newspapers. Shimon Peres is going to finish his term as a President. The end of an Era.
To scrutinize trees in Israel is really a fun thing. There are evergreen kind, middle leaves, etc. One can’t tell from the plants which temperate zone it lies, like a mixed language. A melting pot.
I heard quite a long Portuguese talk on the Platform in Herzliya, the opening was a short shout “Franklin!” It’s always better to speak mother tongue, I guess.
I turned my head to the left, what a stunning blue. A gem, lay still, no waves. It doesn’t have Mediterranean Sea’s temper in Tel Aviv. Seeing from the window, it’s just a gem, giving the shore, beach palm trees, and chaos around it.
Water has never overjoyed me, overwhelming instead. Even if it is a gem, the hidden power will erupt, it waits for the time.
Forrest, mountains are connected with soil, the place we will go after we die. That’s why it stirs death drive? The drive of being melting with the soil, the feeling of completing it with our own dissolving bones.
But not the sea. Sea is a dormant beast, waiting for the right time to burst, boost, to devour. You don’t melt, you are eroded.