Love is silence
Jan. 22
Namaskaram.
My landlord in Istanbul’s Kadikoy area was a cellist. He invited me to join him for a walk on the beach one day before my flight to Paris.
His name was Taylan, pronounced like Thailand. He was thin, with long hair and shaved sideburns, as if he were a bassist in a band.
We walked down to a bench on the beach and sat down, and he pointed out a building behind me and said he lived there. I asked if he could see the sea at home. He said he was not on the top floor and could not see the sea, and rooms with a view of the sea were quite expensive.
Perhaps because he wasn’t very skilled at speaking English, he often needed time to organize his words, so he spoke slowly, giving the impression that he wasn’t in a hurry and had plenty of time to squander.
That day, we spent the afternoon lounging on the beach doing nothing, and just before dark, he asked if I wanted a cup of coffee. We walked to a cafe, where I ordered hot chocolate, and he instantly inquired if I didn’t normally drink coffee. At the same time, I sensed that his sensitivity was only due to his age and experience.
We talked about Thai food and mangosteen, and he forgot the English name for mangosteen, so he described it to me as a brown fruit that opened up to reveal a white inside. The image of mangosteen immediately came to my mind. He looked up photographs to show me in case I misunderstood.
We discussed hot air ballooning in Cappadocia and extreme sports. He mentioned a friend who loved snowy mountains and later died in an avalanche. He forgot the English name for avalanche and described it to me as a snow wave, and the image immediately came to my mind again. He was afraid I’d misunderstood him, so he used Google to translate it for me.
That day, I realized that humans can communicate with one another by sending images via brain waves. In certain situations, people can communicate without using words, yet in other situations, despite their best efforts to clarify, people are still unable to comprehend one another.
There were infinite snowy mountains on the route from Reykjavik to Akureyri. I recalled Taylan’s snow waves and his friend’s death in the snow-covered mountain.
He questioned me about why they went up the mountains when they knew it was so risky. He said, “You know, when an avalanche comes, there is no warning, no sound.”
All I could say was that perhaps that person belonged to the snowy mountains. Like others belong to the sky and the sea.
How to escape the fatal attraction. Sometimes you try to find a way to get closer to someone despite knowing they’re dangerous. You know that the path down is to fall, but how can you save yourself from falling in love.
Love is silence. Coming without warning, without sound.
本该明天返回雷克雅未克，但迟迟没有预定想要入住的guesthouse.
晚上做饭时才忽然想起这回事，一看房间被订满，竟然松一口气。有理由继续在这里多住一天了。转而查看这幢公寓明天还有没有空房，还有一间，于是很快定下来。
出发那天在飞机上重读的小说，前天终于看完最后一章。在好多以前没有在意的句子和段落猝不及防共鸣到大哭。
就好像我在雷市再度看见那片海域和海对岸的Esja山，依然会猝不及防落泪。
我在伊斯坦布尔Kadikoy街区的房东是一个大提琴艺术家。飞去巴黎前，有天他约我一起到海边散步。
他叫泰兰，名字发音很像thailand，瘦，长发，剃了一边耳鬓，看外表会以为他是某个乐队的贝斯手。
我们走到海边长椅坐下，他指给我看身后一栋公寓，说自己就住在那里。我问能看到海吗。他说不在顶楼，看不见海，能看见海的房间十分昂贵。
或许由于不太擅长说英语，他经常需要时间组织语言，因此语速缓慢，也因此他给人感觉不急不躁好像有很多时间可以去浪费。
那天我们在海边无所事事晒了一下午太阳，日落前他问要不要再去喝一杯咖啡。于是走去路边咖啡馆，我点了热巧，他马上很敏锐地问我是否平时不喝咖啡。同时我也感受到这份敏锐只是出于他的年龄和阅历。
我们从泰餐聊到山竹，他不知道怎么说山竹，跟我形容有一种棕色的水果，打开后里面是白色。我脑海中立刻出现山竹的画面。他怕我误解，又搜索图片给我看。
我们从卡帕多奇亚的热气球聊到极限运动。他说起有个朋友喜爱雪山，后来因雪崩而丧生。他忘了雪崩的英语单词，跟我形容是snow wave。我脑海里即刻出现画面。他怕我误解，又谷歌翻译给我看。
是那天，我忽然意识到，原来人和人之间是可以靠脑波传输画面来交流的。有时候人不依靠语言就能相互理解，而有时候人费劲了力气解释也依然相互误解。
从雷克雅未克去阿克雷里的路上，有连绵不绝的雪山。于是想起泰兰说的snow wave，想起他的朋友丧生于雪山。
他问我为什么他们明知那么危险也依然去登山。他说你知道吗雪崩来临的时候根本没有预兆，没有声音。
我只能回答说或许那个人就是属于雪山的。还有些人属于天空和大海。
要怎么离开致命吸引。有时候你明知道一个人很危险也依然想方设法靠近。有时候你明知道这条路往下走就是坠落，但怎么能控制自己不坠落爱河。
爱是寂静。来临的时候没有预兆，没有声音。