[Spirited Away] River of Time

?Chapter 1

He opened the drawer and took out an oil painting from it familiarly.

The picture shows a handsome young man.Black hair, snow-white hunting clothes.The most beautiful thing is the eyes of the person in the painting, clean and clear, like a fine moonstone - exactly the same as the person in front of him.

"Is it a self-portrait?" I asked.However, his hair is clearly chestnut, right?

"No." He shook his head. "Originally, I planned to draw a self-portrait. Halfway through the painting, I suddenly realized... this person looks like my father."

As far as I know, his father has been dead for more than ten years.Why did this man draw his father in memory when he painted a self-portrait?What is the mysterious hint in it?

"Your father had a great influence on you," I said.

"Yeah...he exists like a god in my heart." He quietly looked at the young father in the portrait, with a similar loneliness in his moonstone-like eyes, "In my 12-year-old yu On the Lanpen Festival, he left... Mother gently took my hand and said, "Father has returned to the river. Father will leave after all."

I see. "It's no wonder that your paintings are all from the perspective of looking up from the river. You imagine yourself as the father who is 'back in the river'...you want to keep his life in this way."

"Yes." There was a warm light in his eyes, "There are many reporters who interviewed me. You are the first person who found my original intention for painting."

"The birth of any art comes from the love and destruction in the heart." I stared at him deeply.

I will never forget his exhibition.There are swaying blue water patterns on the huge canvas, bubbling and flowing as if alive, warm like a mother's womb.The golden sun shines into the water.Empty glass bottles and fallen leaves float by.The raindrops fell on the river, causing ripples.Falling snow and floating ice fluttered on the water, like a beautiful and white tomb.The little feet of children playing in the river wear the red string of a beckoning cat.The girl who threw water.floating boat.The reflection in the river of the setting sun that was cut into fragments by tall buildings...

At that moment, tears fell unconsciously.At the same time, his arm was scratched by a friend beside him.

Hidden in the river are clearly a pair of lonely eyes.From the perspective of an outsider, quietly watching our swaying world in the swaying water waves.

"At that time, I felt that I had insight into the most difficult knowledge in the world." I solemnly said to him and expressed my gratitude.However, he just smiled: "This is really the best feedback."

"I see loneliness in your works." I said, "Although I look up, I feel a gesture of being above the common people. Is this your understanding of Shinto?"

"My mother said that my father is the river god." He shook the glass slightly, and the water rippled on his handsome face. What a feeling."

"Looking up and looking down?" I grasped these two words keenly, "Isn't there just looking up?"

"The earth is not flat." He said meaningfully, "Looking up and looking down, you will see the world more clearly."

I carefully wrote down these two sentences: "Your answer is very interesting. I believe that everyone will have a different understanding of your two sentences, just like everyone has different views on your works."

he laughed. "I will always remain silent."

"A wise choice. Art is immortal because it stirs up waves silently." I stood up and stretched out my hand, "Thank you for accepting our interview in your busy schedule. See you soon."

"Thank you for your unique interpretation, Ms. Kawakami. Welcome to the 'River of Time' studio again."

He shook hands with me.His knuckles were pale and slender, with a slight coolness like a river.I was momentarily stunned.It was the hand in front of him that created "Snow on the River" and other works that shocked countless people... The snowflakes fell on the Amber River that had long since disappeared in the depths of time, and the coolness that had flowed for many years melted at his fingertips.

"See you early, I really want to know the story of your parents." When he sent me out of the studio, I said half-jokingly.

"Really? If it's Ms. Kawakami, I can tell you."

I looked at him in surprise.He smiled lightly, but he didn't know what kind of expression was in his black eyes.

"I can tell you," he repeated, "but you might think I'm telling a wild fairy tale."

"I will believe it." I said seriously, with a hint of eagerness unconsciously in my tone, "When can we meet again?"

There was a sly look in his eyes, like a boy in a cartoon.I felt my blushing: "No...don't get me wrong...I didn't mean that..."

"Your cell phone." He ignored my embarrassment at all.

"Huh?" I looked at him stupidly.

He smiled: "If you don't leave your mobile phone, why ask you out to tell a story?"

"……All right."