Jingjiu Talisman

By now, many details of the stories in “Wine Talisman” have gradually grown hazy.

I said to a friend, “Why don’t we turn these stories into writing, or maybe a novel, and preserve them?”

My friend shook his head. “Forget it. Let time wash them away. That’s life. It’s not as if we’ve never lost something important.”

I pressed him. “Don’t you want someone to remember these things?”

He was silent for a moment, then told me, “Have you ever thought about it? Maybe the first painting in the world was born on the wall of some cave. The person who painted it was probably just desperately trying to hold on to something that mattered deeply to them, hoping someone might remember. But, alas, thousands of years have passed. Who can still remember what that painting was made for?”

After that conversation, I did try writing a few things: humor, excitement, food, love, courage, philosophy, interesting people I’d met, empty streets in the early hours, art I’d sought out... They were like beads scattered across the floor. I couldn’t find a thread to string them together, and they had nowhere to belong.

So, after waking from an ordinary afternoon nap, I made my decision: I’d write down all these “stories” and make them into a long novel.

Let it be an anchor, like that nameless painting on a cave wall, and like a note deliberately left for my future self.

At last, I wrote what I truly wanted to write. The process was unbelievably satisfying, and genuinely artistic.

I’m not here to tell you some grand “truth” that will enlighten you, or teach you how to live.

I’m thinking of just one thing: taking you all along as we close our eyes and search for a little excitement among those half-lit, half-obscured fragments of memory.