Chapter 2 Chapter 2 May

It has been raining continuously since early in the morning, and it doesn't look like it will stop.The front of the cold front that brought the rain cloud appears to have crossed the Channel of Dover to the UK.The whole of Europe is covered by this rain cloud.God has provided a rare topic for the old men in this city who talk about the weather.Before dark, they must be seen looking up at the sky and talking on the roads everywhere. I got up from the bed, opened the window, and could see the dark green surface of the Aruno River with increasing water volume.It is not the usual dark green, smooth and elegant flowing water.The rain hits ripples everywhere.

It is raining again? Turning around, he was facing Shang Yashi's big eyes.Both she and I were naked.I fell asleep straight after sex last night. Well, it won't stop for a while! Yashi straightened her upper body and muttered: How disgusting!Rain is not for this city.Just stay in Milan. She came close to me and hugged me from behind.Feeling her bristly hair between her protruding breasts and my back.Did she get her wavy black hair from her mother?The big brown eyes and the high bridge of the nose are different from my oriental face. Anyone who looks at it will say that it is an Italian face.

I hate May.Yashi is playing with my earlobe, how do you say May in Italian?He whispered with his lips next to my ear. Maggio. Yeah? Maggio. Although Yashi has Italian blood, he can't speak Italian at all.She has always hated her Italian father who divorced her mother when she was a child, and turned her face whenever she asked about her father. She herself said that she took a break from university and came to Italy because she felt that it was too late to get to know the other half of her motherland after graduation.But I suspect that this is an action by her heart for her father.

Why hasn't your Italian improved?You don't even know May, you don't really want to learn at all. How can there be!Everyone forgets sometimes! Yeah?It's rare to go to school, and I always go shopping like other Japanese tourists. Yashi's hands went around my armpits from behind me, crossed on the back of my neck, and I couldn't help but laugh out loud.I turned around, and she pouted in my arms. never mind!Language doesn't matter at all, being able to see the country is enough. Yashi's coquettish eyes stared at me.I was reflected in the brown eyes hidden behind the hair.I kissed her left eye lightly without hesitation.She has a double eyelid on her right eye and a single eyelid on her left eye.I am more or less partial to some left eyes that she hates.

If you want to see your father, you should go to Milan in the first place. When I was so provocative, Yashi's lips pouted even more. I don't want to see the guy who abandoned me, I just want to confirm what the country of Italy is like, and then return to Japan after confirmation. When will it be confirmed? This one, look at you! The two stared at each other for a moment, smiling at the same time. Look at me? Yeah, if you need me, I'll stay here a little longer.Yashi no longer laughs, I don't care about this country at all, I hate it as soon as I come.Closed and noisy, as soon as I knew I couldn't speak Italian, I immediately looked at me coldly. Even young people know nothing about the outside world, thinking that all orientals are just orientals, aren't you angry?Confusing Japan, China, and South Korea together is too common sense.

I tilted my head and said: Really?Ya Shi clenched his teeth and said: That's right!Giovanna would not.I deliberately made her jealous by telling the teacher's name.Yashi didn't know that the teacher was painting nudes for me, but with a woman's intuition, she was wary of a teacher she had never met. Just pretending to be an intellectual.She retorted stubbornly. I hug Yashi tenderly.The beating of her heart communicated to me through my chest.Feeling that Yashi's self-excited, self-ignorant character is similar to the old me, I secretly chuckled. Growing up in New York, I barely knew Japanese until I was eighteen.Before that, there was only information through Grandpa Seiji Agata.

Grandpa is the only relative who cares about me.Father Qingya was busy with work and women, and left me without a mother. Grandpa often wrote letters from Tokyo, tirelessly urging me not to forget Japanese.For me who thought I had been abandoned by those around me, my grandfather's advice made me happy.It was also my grandfather's suggestion that I major in Japanese literature in college. I am in contrast to Yashi. When Ya was in Japan, her beautiful and eye-catching appearance was always regarded as a foreigner.When friends knew that she didn't speak Italian or English, they said it was inconceivable.Her allergy to language comes from her upbringing.

What's the date today?I asked while closing the window. Yashi kissed my back lightly and said: No. 25.Is it the twenty-fifth?I muttered, thinking of May in Tokyo. I love May in Tokyo.May, when the trees are covered with new green leaves, makes me feel more at ease than March and April, when plum blossoms and cherry blossoms are in full bloom. In an urban area full of inorganic landscapes as far as the eye can see, the green breath of May Road trees is the greatest salvation in my life as a foreigner in Tokyo. After the chaotic period of the beginning of school, life calms down, and it is also in May that you can calmly look around Tokyo.Only May in Tokyo, which I can never love again, is a special month seared in my memory.

I can see the green leaves of Hanegi Park from my old apartment in Tokyo.It used to be my grandfather's studio. Although the building is old, it has a high ceiling and is very comfortable to live in.The innermost room is like a warehouse, full of old and new works of grandpa. When I first arrived in Tokyo, my grandfather persuaded me to live in his house in Mitaka on the grounds that I was not familiar with the city, but I firmly refused as I did not want to be bound.My grandpa, who wanted to take care of me wholeheartedly, said: In this case, let’s live in the studio that is not in use now.Whether I like it or not, I'm going to live in Mayhill's apartment.

For me who grew up among the skyscrapers, the leisurely residence along the Odakyu Railway was my first encounter with Tokyo. I often criticize and appreciate his works without telling my grandfather.Among the works, my favorite is the series of woodblock prints he painted during his wanderings in Central and South America.I've never been as surprised as I was when I discovered those works. These works, which seem to be influenced by pop art in the 1960s, do not depict cities, but extract old houses, fallen walls or road signs from the space, highlight them and draw them.These detailed realistic paintings brew a kind of indescribable realism in the prints in the abstract world, and on the other hand, they show the beauty of travel and the possibility of human imagination.

Grandpa said in a previous letter that he was strongly attracted by the ancient Mayan civilization and wandered there.I touched these works full of life, stimulated by primitive power, and depicted my own future. I couldn't help dreaming that one day I would also travel to the past of human beings. After brunch, Yashi went back to his apartment along the Aruno River, while I went to the studio. The studio is next to the old bridge about five minutes walk from the apartment.Next to the big stone gate is a small gate leading to the workplace. Inside the small gate is a ten-ping-sized atrium.The space surrounded by stone walls is lovely with potted plants.At the end of the atrium is the gate of the workplace.I leaned my umbrella against the dark cherry-colored wooden door with a heavy sense of history, and walked in. When I first visited, I was amazed by the medieval carvings and paintings I saw inside. Historic works are randomly placed and piled up like failures.At first I thought it was a practice fake, but it turned out not to be, every piece is genuine. The city itself is medieval, no surprise there!The teacher patted my shoulder and said with a smile.Today is the third year, and I have obtained several prosthetic qualifications.Among the old oil paintings and tempera paintings sent for restoration, most of the particularly difficult ones were left to me.When alone, the teacher always said that she trusted me the most, and I always believed that. The teacher is in front of several visiting young students from the nearby Restoration School, carefully instructing them on how to repair the scars of canvases, old picture frames and peeling pictures. She likes pale pink shirts, the color really suits her.The gold chains from which the glasses were hung hung loosely from the shirt. The teacher glanced at me, smiled quickly and then returned to a serious expression.I went to the innermost workplace. Akira Takanashi, a Japanese studying abroad at public expense, came to the studio to do the cleaning work.Takanashi is five years older than me and is thirty-two years old.After completing the Restoration Course at Tokyo University of the Arts, he worked at the Institute of Painting Restoration in Japan, and was recently sent by the Agency for Cultural Affairs to learn more specialized techniques. It was raining, and Takanashi did not stop his work. The humidity was not good for repair. He waved the cotton wand carefully, with a calm expression, but his fingertips trembled slightly.I took off my jacket, put on my overalls, and sat next to Takanashi. Restoration is a difficult job in Japan, where the humidity is high.Because it is dry here, vinegar can be mixed into the glue. If it were in Japan, mold would grow first. After he finished muttering, he smiled alone. The method is fundamentally different from Japan. How is it different? When I asked, Takanashi nodded vigorously and hummed, waiting for a powerful answer to the question. This is just one example, such as Japan, where the emphasis is on restoring paintings to look close to the original. Is that so?I answer cautiously.In Italy, there is no sense of color incongruity when viewed from a distance, but when viewed closely, it must be obvious that the painting has been restored. The premise of this country seems to be that the higher the value of cultural property, the more it is necessary to let everyone know where it has been restored.Takanashi then added: I am not saying that Italy's method is wrong, but that each country has different ideas.Sounds like a statement of self-affirmation. I get to work.Unlike Takanashi, I acquired specialized knowledge in a research institute, but honed it at the restoration site.Here, I also taught the older Takanashi some specialized techniques. You are amazing!It is possible to enter the most advanced workshop in Florence without the support of the state, and the university does not specialize in restoration. After I answered wow, I held up the work and checked it.The painting I have in hand is an early work by Botticelli.Although it is a private collection, but thinking of its value, it will inevitably make people shy, so I have to tell myself that it is just an ancient painting, so let's deal with it according to the old method! What did you major in in college? Japanese literature. Specialized? , "Shan Jia Ji", that kind. "Mountain Family Collection"?Takanashi laughed, I, I have been specializing in this way to get to this point, but I am not as good as you who taught yourself, really! I could hear the sting in Takanashi's words.He must think I'm presumptuous for being younger than him and not using honorifics.We didn't interact after get off work, because the city is small, and the Japanese will naturally seek common bonds, but I don't care much about other Japanese except Yashi. Tell me, how did you get in here? What means? Sleep with the teacher? I opened my eyes wide and turned to look at Takanashi.A smile appeared on his side face. Angelo finally came and told us in Italian that it was raining heavily.He wriggled his wet clothes and said that thunder was rare. He is a tall, thin, fair-skinned young man with a young face.Angelo smiled innocently.The pure white cotton shirt was soaked, clinging to his slender body.Takanashi looked away and said in Italian that it is best to change clothes to avoid catching a cold.Angelo was obedient and obedient like a younger brother, showing his fair and tender skin in front of everyone. As soon as my work was over, the teacher sent me to the studio in the attic.Takanashi and Angelo stayed to work.Looking back at Takanashi when he walked out of the studio, he silently faced the work as if he had forgotten the provocation just now. I climbed the narrow stairs.The stairs get narrower as you go up, and at the end is the teacher's studio. I started working as a model for my teacher's drawings about a year ago.The teacher called me in after my work to talk about modeling.I replied without hesitation: please!Since then, the teacher has completed five of my paintings. I have no resistance to undressing in front of the teacher.I was thinking, do I have special feelings for the teacher without a mother?In fact, it is too much to think so.Our relationship is extremely calm.I trust the teacher, and I feel infinitely happy to be painted in the teacher's work.The teacher had the same expression as usual, silently drawing my naked body, and I didn't expect too much. When modeling, I often think about my mother.What kind of person was the person who gave birth to me?The poor mother who committed suicide shortly after I was born, and the heartbreak that she had to die without me. Sometimes it occurs to me, is my mother like Giovanna?I have grounds for such speculation.My father didn't talk much about my mother, but my grandfather once told me that my mother was also a painter, although it was just a line or two in the letter.The painting is not very good, but the painting style is strange, and the overall incongruity shows its advantages. Grandpa wrote. Try making an egg! The teacher gave me a new topic.I curled up in a circle in the rainy light coming in from the small square skylight. The teacher was close enough that I could hear her breathing, and because I was a model, I could almost only stare at the wall pillars, and I couldn't see the way the teacher drew me.At that time, the relationship between the two could be said to be a calm stalemate.I feel carefree in it. is this okay? I climbed onto the platform where I normally stood, folded my arms over my chest, put my head on my knees, and curled up with my hips facing the teacher. Well, imagine what it was like to be born. The teacher laughed softly when he said that.I can only talk when I'm not drawing faces. Giovanna, everyone is gossiping about you and me. What do I have with you? The teacher dismissed the rumor in a low, puzzled voice.I realized that the teacher was telling me that there was nothing between us.I am speechless. I draw your body, what can they gossip about? The teacher's way of speaking subtly contained a taste that even I rejected. My forehead was on my knees, and my face was flushed.I regret if I have created a gap between the teacher and me by bringing up this nonsense. It's all boring. I hastily denied everything and told myself to let them go.The teacher said with a smile, don't reduce your concentration for nosy things. After a while, the teacher told me again: Don't lose to jealousy, you must first be a good restorer. Lightning illuminated the window panes.The thunder roared in the distance, and the rain began to hit the glass. I fell asleep unconsciously in that rhythm.Consciousness receded slightly, and unilateral memories leaked out. When I was in college, I often asked Aoi to be a model for my paintings.On Sunday afternoons, weekday evenings when classes were skipped, and when there was nothing special, I secretly borrowed my grandpa's canvas and paints to paint her.Aoi was reluctant at first, but she seemed to like the finished works quite a bit, and later she would occasionally take the initiative to pester me to help her draw. I love Aoi's sculpted, expressionless face.I also like her sad eyes that don't know where to look.The gaze that inadvertently departed from reality and wandered in a space that only she knew.A somewhat world-weary, abandoning look.Slender and fragile eyes. I always focus on the other side of Aoi's line of sight when drawing.Draw to see where she gazes.I want to get closer to her.Even though he wanted to get close to her, he drifted away like passing water. The rain had stopped when we left the studio.I took an umbrella and walked alone on the banks of the Aruno River.The orange streetlights illuminate the street red, and occasionally a car approaches behind it, speeding away with the sound of the engine. May 25th! I gaze at the distant sky.Who will Aoi spend this blessed day with?What kind of people surrounded her on her twenty-seventh birthday It also rained on Aoi's twenty-second birthday. We met on the concrete steps next to the seventh-anniversary lecture hall.That's where we all love it. Student members of the University Symphony Orchestra sit on the steps leading to the basement to practice cello.The deep and elegant music reverberated from the concrete wall of the semi-underground part of the school building, and spread joyfully throughout the surrounding area. We hid from the rain, I said it was rare for your birthday, Aoi smiled and said it was okay.How much of the future can we see at that time?In retrospect, there really wasn't a bit of worry at all, allowing us to anticipate this time of day. I asked where to go?Aoi said that there is no need to force her to go anywhere.We squatted side by side on the steps, betting on the time when the rain will stop, and listening to the talented cellist of the future. That night, we went to a European restaurant in Shimokitazawa to celebrate her birthday.But the sound of the cello heard in the memorial lecture hall that day was more impressive than the noisy atmosphere in the restaurant and the delicious food smelling of olive oil.The sound of the rain and the cello, with Aoi sitting beside me, I held her hand tightly. I no longer remember the title of the piece played by the young cellist at that time.Aoi, who likes classical music, especially opera, knew the title of the song immediately.It's a song I don't know. I believe that although people cannot remember everything, important things will never be forgotten.I don't want to think that Aoi has completely forgotten about that night, even though I may never see her again. In the evening, I went to Yashi’s apartment, and Yashi introduced her Korean roommate Youngju.Cheerful Yingzhu and Yashi are classmates in the language school, and they speak Italian fluently. I speak Italian with Yingju.When Yingzhu and Yashi talk, Yingzhu uses Japanese words, and Yashi uses English words.Yashi felt bored because Yingzhu and I spoke Italian and hit it off, so he lay unhappy and watched TV halfway. It is an apartment exclusively for students introduced by the language school.There are three rooms in total, and the restaurant bathroom is shared.There was a Japanese boy in another room, but I didn't see it. It was raining hard.Yingzhu looked out the window and said. I said it was stopped. Yashi, come here for tea!I said. Yashi just mumbled thanks. The TV played the Italian version of MTV.Short-haired rock singers frown and sing in the frame.Like a Japanese folk song.Memi said before that the melodies of Italian songs are not suitable for Japanese people.But I think there are many similarities. How was your day?Yingzhu asked. I smile, I look back on today, and feel the cello melody of nostalgia ringing slightly in my ears.I closed my eyes to catch it, and the melody was instantly amplified in my ears, but was immediately distracted by the Italian pop songs on the TV. Era una giomata come quella di ieri. (Exactly the same as yesterday) I said. Yingzhu repeated.Exactly the same as yesterday.Strange echo.We can never go back to yesterday.Yesterday was not long ago, but unlike tomorrow, it is a place that can never be reached. Let's have a party! I smiled and proposed to Yingzhu and Yashi, the three agreed for the first time and prepared quickly. What kind of party is this?Eiju asked me in Japanese, which Meami also understood. As I rummaged through the refrigerator, I quickly said in Italian: Today is my ex-lover's birthday.Yashi?Ying Zhu replied with a wry smile.