静静地生活

A woman, in love with two men. She says: Because I cannot love one.



At Klein Kalfje, a woman, sat in the sun light at the cafe. She was drinking red tea. She felt cold suddenly, so she put on her sweater.

At Klein Kalfje, a woman kept looking at the back of her hand. She suddenly remembered she had freckles on her face. She moved to a seat in the shade.



At Klein Kalfje, when you want to order something, you call the waiter: hey, my love.



But the story I'm going to tell you, it's what happened after leaving Klein Kalfje.



She moved into a low cost apartment. The boxes stacked up in the living room. She thought this was just going to be temporary, so she never open the boxes. She was living on her suit case.



She told all her friend: Look I'm living on my suit case.



She was not unhappy. In fact, she was quite proud of it.



She told all her friend: One day I'm going to Tibet, or India. For meditation.



Because of her childishness, her friends laughed.



She was already 27. She just quit her job from a magazine. Her friends asked her: So what are you doing now? She would tell them, with a bit of show-offish: I'm doing NOTHING.



And after awhile, as if she just remembered, she scratched her nose, and said: Ah! I'm writing a novel, it's called " The Conversation at Klein Kalfje".



The friends got interested. They asked: So what type of conversation is that? She giggled, partly teasing her friends, partly like a small kid succeeded in his trick, she said: That it! There is no conversation at all in the story. There was only this lonely woman in the story, and she didn't even utter a word.



The friends realised this might be another absurd plan of hers, so they stopped asking.



Since she was not a bad writer, some friends would ask her to write for their magazines. She wrote them a few. Later, she turned down all of them. She said she was rushing for a deadline. An established publishing house had signed a contract with her, she would need to finish her novel by March. Her friends thought her lie was bizarre and naive, in their country, even those award-winning writer who is well-known, can hardly get contract with publishing house. They felt embarrassed for her. She had bragged too much, how is she going to cover up later?



She disappeared in March. Stop using her hand phone. Never reply emails. None of her friends knew where she had gone. Everyone was relieved. They thought it's good that they no need to be nervous when they sees her, and listening to her telling more ridiculous lies about why is her book not published.



In October, she still had not returned. When they had gathering, they always talked about her. Nevertheless she was a beautiful woman. Nevertheless she was quite talented. Just that she was a bit childish---thinking about it now, even the childishness was nice. They remembered the title of the novel she wanted to write: THE CONVERSATION AT KLEN KALFJE. One of the friends said the title is too awkward, like a badly translated foreign book title. Everyone promptly agreed. A friend said she was smart, her writing was good, but she was just lack of something. Again, everyone promptly agreed. What was that she lacked of? They were lost at word. Was it because she was too lucky, her life was too good, she had never struggled, hence her writing lacked depth? Was it because she was too playful, she had learnt too much, but she never worked hard on anything? Was it because there were too many men in her life, she never had time for herself to really write something? A friend asked: At Klein Kalfje, maybe she met someone she love? A friend asked: At Klein Kalfje, maybe her lover left her? A friend asked: Is she in Klein Kalfje now? A friend asked: Klein Kalfje, what place is that? Is the one she loved, in Klein Kalfje?



She had never go back to Klein Kalfje.



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written by Tan Chui Mui, 3 October 2005



中文版《在凯林卡非亚的对话》

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