| Xiao Xu
Edit the | Ear East Chen
Typography | Bi Xiaotian
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Life is never a rehearsal, and duras and Young's life is even more storytelling than rehearsal.
In a place called Cannes in France, a university student named Jan studied philosophy here. By chance, he came across a book, The Pony of Taguinia, written by Duras. The book was thrown on the floor by a classmate in the same dormitory, mixed in a mess of books.
He knew nothing about Duras, but from then on he could no longer live without the name, and from then on he fell in love with every word, every sentence, every book That Duras wrote. He began to copy what she had written, even willing to be a hand that copied her words.
The woman who obsessed him was Margaret, the eccentric writer of the Twentieth Century, French literary scene. Duras. In her autobiographical work Lover, she writes: "If I don't write novels, if I'm not a writer, then I should be a prostitute." ”
Duras, the old driver, has had many tangled erotic stories in her life, and these strange love stories are also scattered in the books she wrote
"Love for me, not skin kiss, not a vegetable and a meal, it is an immortal desire, is a heroic dream in a tired life." 」
She practiced this dream of hers with her body until she died.
In her colorful emotional life, the most memorable thing for her is the story between her and Jan. Young is the college student mentioned earlier.
This year Duras and Young met and took the initiative to meet. Thus, an unprecedented love saga began in 1980.
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When he met Duras, he was 27 and she was 66. Her beauty was gone, and of course, the beauty of her wisdom was still in her body, and Jan recognized all this.
At that moment, in Duras's view, at the age of 66, it was a remarkable thing that someone came to see him from afar. He was tall and thin, and they ate together, drank, talked about movies, and talked about books.
And the next day, they were together.
One night they talked about one of her novels, and she cried into tears, and he held her and cried, and the two of them cried together. Sometimes, they laughed again, embarrassed to cry, and then the tears flowed again...
He stayed and never left her until she died.
The worship of a person can really produce love, how can love not have worship? There is no worship of male and female eroticism, mostly based on the physical loneliness of both sides, the completion of a worldly task. In Jan, I saw how powerful the worship of a person can be.
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She had had such intense and passionate physical events with him. Duras said to Jan, "Come, don't be shy, come to me." Come, touch my body. So he did.
There was a kind of savage freedom in her, a freedom he had never seen before. This woman is his god of death, she is powerful, she creates everything.
She made decisions for him, he was her lover, her readers, her driver, her secretary, her nurse. And he was willing to do so, he lost himself in her body, lost in her powerful aura.
She asked, he gave, completely.
She was old and her legs and feet were not flexible, and Yang monitored her every move, afraid that she would fall. At night, when she slept, or didn't sleep, he would see if she was still alive.
He forced her to eat more and fed her with a small spoon, and he wanted her to eat with strength.
He bathed her, wiped her back, her breasts, her hips, her feet. She shouted, "Murderer, I knew I was going to be killed by you." He continued to wash her.
On the typewriter, he recorded, she recounted, she said tired, they went outside, looking at the sea, watching the boats, watching the seagulls.
Young said he stayed to keep her alive, but also to love her, to love her words.
Duras is getting older, and even the most powerful people will grow old. In the last years of her life, she was acutely aware of the coming of death. He watched her weaken day by day, and every day, he felt like it was her last day. Every morning, she was still alive, which was a miracle.
In early 1996, she said to him, "Duras, it's over." "He didn't speak. A few days before she died, she was sleepy, she wanted to get up, And Jan saw her body fall down, very slowly, very slowly, and he rushed over, and at the moment when her head was about to touch the ground, he put his hand on her head.
She looked at him, and in her eyes, she was clearly saying, "I love you more than anyone else in the world." ”
"Why do you say that?" Where are you going? Why say goodbye? Duras's heart slowly stopped beating, and at that moment, Yang was at her side, grabbing her hand, tightly. There was nothing he could do. The day was March 3, 1996.
Their love was over, and to his shame, he was still alive.
Deep love is a very good thing in the world, better than being a princess, not being a president. However, deep love is a little bad, that is, the deeply loved one cannot be separated. Death is not terrible, and it is even a happy thing to die together. The terrible thing is the kind of separation that hurts more than death, the kind of separation that separates heaven and man, the separation that cannot be seen, the pain of erosion of bones. It is the beloved one who dies, and the other is not dead, but it cannot live.
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It is often asked, what kind of man does a woman really want?
Perhaps, for those women with sharp and fragile souls, in the green years of their lives, it is easiest to be infatuated with the great and fruitful men, even those who seem to be very humorous and have a great sense of discourse, but such men usually value their own great deeds more, and they cannot give women the sense of security they need.
At that time, women were disdainful of such men, such as Men like Jan. However, when women have passed through adolescence, experienced the baptism of years and the precipitation of life, they understand that men's thoughtfulness, support, responsibility, and love can make us feel truly cared for and saved.
When the years give women those things, slim waists, smooth skin, all you have, sooner or later will be taken back by the years silently, and then become an old driver who has no medicine to save. At this time, what you need is a man who can share your heart and stay with you.
As William Butler Yeats wrote in his poem "When You're Old" "How many people love the cheerful hours of your youth, your beauty, your falsehood or sincerity, only one person loves your pilgrim's soul and the painful wrinkles of your aging face?"
May every woman, every mountain and water in the future, day and night, have someone who loves your soul and the wrinkles on your face.
#和成熟女人谈恋爱什么感觉 #