The Persistence of Memory
Writer: Island
Dedicated to the Norwegian lady
It was eight o'clock in the evening when I arrived in Oslo by plane. I checked into the Scandic Hotel with my horsehide travel bag, a suit, an easel, and some small things like razors. Before falling asleep, I took a pack of medicine with boiled water, and then asked the waiter to order me a dinner, salmon from a certain restaurant, which was silky and mellow, enough to make me forget the loneliness of flying. But after the meal, maybe I was missing someone, or maybe it was the anxiety of flying, the medicine had not made me tired, I felt that I should do something, play mobile games, or draw a picture, anyway, I walked to the French window and stared at the scenery below.
I have to say that Norwegian buildings are particularly free, and they may appear in Gothic, Baroque, or ancient Greek styles. And Norwegians like to paint their houses in independent colors, which are very sharp and unique. How to say it, it has a sense of human rights.
But when I stared at the colorful neon lights, I couldn't help but think of her appearance in my mind. Her oval face, white and smooth, with short hair like a man, and a height of 1.7 meters, she was heroic and elegant, like Caitlyn, the policewoman in Piltover in "League of Legends". If there was a grassland in the distance, she was wearing a suit and a vest, riding a white horse and galloping freely, what kind of scenery would that be?
This is the 21st century, an era of women. Women should be free from birth, not bound by any dogma or rules, and beautiful, with short hair, comfortable, and completely ignoring the eyes of the people around them. Isn't this a kind of temperament that is peerless and arrogant!
That night, I hugged the pillow with a bulging cheek. Before falling asleep, I had only one thought in my mind: tomorrow, when I go to that cafe again, can I see her again as I wish? Then, I entered one dream after another, but I couldn't remember any of the content.
I woke up very early the next morning. Outside the French window was a morning glow, hazy and white. I took a shower, changed into a gray and white woolen suit, and put on a peony tie. After dinner, I hurriedly left the hotel.
When I took a taxi from the airport to the west of the city, it was eight o'clock in the morning when I got off the car. I still remember that the road of this antique street was made of small slabs of stone. The buildings on both sides were either Gothic or Baroque, light yellow or white jade. In short, they were full of classical charm. This atmosphere was enough to make a cup of coffee more delicious. I can't remember the name of the cafe, but I still know the way. I walked forward and arrived at a magnificent spire building. Turn right and walk a few steps to see it. I remember that the cafe had a green tent, with yellow tables and yellow chairs in front of the door. Inside, Beethoven's piano music sounded softly...
I finally found this cafe, and this time I remembered its name: Fragrant and Fragrant Cafe.
When I walked into it, I couldn't help but feel a little emotional, because the last time I met her here was when she stepped out - oval face, fashionable short hair, wearing a gray woolen coat, wearing fur boots, walking briskly, calmly, leaving a fragrance, and leaving this cafe. At this time, I should also be walking briskly, but in a beautiful mood. Of course, just like in reality, I will never see her walk out of here again, and I will not pass by her. That will only be a romantic story in the movie.
But I am very patient. I sat at a coffee table facing the counter inside. When the waiter came towards me, I pretended to order a cup of black coffee, then looked at the scenery by the window, and some slim and lively young men and women, and sat quietly like this. It was just like when I was a teenager, practicing sketching skills, with a calm mind and patience. But when I thought of this, I became unstable. The reality is that I am now busy with my career, and I am not as carefree as I was when I was young. I can pursue the realm of painting wholeheartedly without any worries.
The light outside the window changed from morning light to daylight, and it was 12 o'clock in a flash. Just when I thought she would not enter this cafe today, she came. At this time, when I was staring at a red sports car in the 21st century style outside the window, my eyes were stunned and my thoughts were leisurely. This is popular among young people nowadays.
"Hello, is this seat vacant?" A slightly low lady's voice said.
I turned my head and looked up. The lady who was talking in front of me was wearing a coffee-colored woolen coat close to yellow, a military cap on her head, and a long light yellow scarf hanging from her shoulders. Although her short hair was covered by the military cap, I could still clearly recognize that she was the lady I met in this cafe a month ago.
"Of course, this seat is empty, please sit down." I watched her put the white handbag on the table, sat down, and added: "Maybe it's just for you."
"Really? I seem to know you. We met in this cafe a month ago. You sat with Leonardo at that time." She said.
"I remember you too. You had short hair that day. I want to know why you cut it short?"
"Why? I also wonder why you ask this?"
"Because in our world, not all women are used to having long hair. They think that long hair can charm all men. Of course, I don't think so. I think women with short hair also have a unique temperament, free, wild, and very sexy."
"Haha, thank you for the compliment. I just keep my hair short for comfort."
"Can you tell me your name?" I asked.
"Tell me what you do first?" she asked back.
"This..." I hesitated for a moment, but answered truthfully, saying, "I am the CEO of an oil painting city, and also a painter, but I am not as famous as Van Gogh. I just think I am a famous painter. I like surrealism, just like Salvador's famous work "The Persistence of Memory", which is very beautiful and expresses a concept, or the imagination of the painter! I think painting is a career, but the reality is very annoying. My oil painting city has fewer and fewer customers. Every day or night when I walk in, it is empty, without a single person. Perhaps it is like what my father said, the reason why my oil painting city had customers before was because he had a reputation, and people came to buy paintings from me for his sake... I am ashamed of myself. Most of the contracted painters in the company are my classmates and friends, but in recent years, the painting business has become more and more difficult in this country. People would rather go to the night market to eat, drink and have fun than appreciate art..." "So what are you going to do in the future?" she asked. "I don't know. I have made a bet with my family. If my oil painting city still makes a loss this year and I have to rely on the family's business to pay the workers' wages, then the family will no longer allocate money to me."
"If that's the case, then do you want to hear the truth? Let me tell you what to do?"
"Please go ahead."
"Young man, I want to tell you that painting is not art, but a commodity. No matter what job you do, as long as the products you produce face the market and are exchanged with currency, then it is a commodity. Commodities are cheap when there are more goods and fewer people, and expensive when there are fewer goods and more people. Paintings, like a statue, are commodities because everyone has them. The need for viewing and the need for decoration. But why do few people buy paintings? Because it is fixed. When a person buys a painting and hangs it on the wall, the painting will accompany his family for life. People will not buy another painting when they get tired of the paintings at home. If everyone only buys one painting in their lifetime, then, can the painter survive on the price of one painting in his lifetime? Moreover, the reality is that there are still many people who don’t buy a painting in their lifetime. Art is not food. Everyone needs it every day... "
"If the painting is food, the audience will digest it and turn it into nothingness after taking a look at it." I laughed.
"Yes, if people eat it after taking a look at the painting, then I am sure that he will buy a new painting tomorrow." She also laughed.
"Then my oil painting city will become as lively as a supermarket!" I said.
"Yes." She replied.、
记忆永恒
编剧：海岛
献给挪威女士
我乘飞机抵达奥斯陆的时候，正是夜晚八点钟。我住进了斯堪迪克酒店，带着我的马皮旅行包，与包里的一套西装，一个画架，以及一些剃须刀之类的小东西。入睡之前，我用开水服食了一包药物，然后吩咐服务生给我叫来一份晚餐，某某餐馆的三文鱼，它口感丝滑，入味香醇，足以使我忘记乘飞机的寂寞。但用完餐后，或许是我思念着谁，或许是乘飞机的焦虑，药物还未使我疲困，我感到自己应该做些什么，玩手机游戏，或画幅画，总之我步到了落地窗前，凝视底下的风景。
不得不说，挪威的建筑物特别自由，什么哥特式、巴洛克式、或者古希腊风格，它都有可能出现。而且挪威人喜欢把自己房子的颜色涂成各自独立的，分外棱角分明，与众不同，怎么说呢，它有种人权观念。
但我凝视着霓虹灯的五光十色时，脑海却不自禁的浮想起她的模样，椭圆形的脸蛋，洁白光滑，留着男人式的短发，再搭配1.7的身高，英姿飒爽，风采奕奕，好像《英雄联盟》里的皮城女警凯特琳。假如，远处是一片草原，她身穿西装，马甲，骑着一匹白马自由驰骋，那会是一种什么风景呢？
这是21世纪，一个女人的时代，女人生下来就应该是自由的，不受任何教条规矩束缚，并且美貌，留着短发，舒舒服服，而完全不顾周边人们的眼观，这何尝不是一种风华绝代傲视众生的气质呢！
当晚，我抱着腮帮鼓鼓般的枕头，进入梦乡之前，心里只有一个想法，明天，等我再去那家咖啡馆的时候，能否如愿，再次见到她。然后，我就进入一个又一个的梦境里了，却记不得其中的任何内容。
次日凌晨很早的时候我就醒来了，落地窗外是一片晨曦，朦朦胧胧，一片白色，我先去洗个澡，换上一身灰白色毛呢西装，打上牡丹花领带，用餐后，就脚步匆忙地离开这家酒店。
当我乘坐一辆出租车，从机场抵达城西这一地带，下车时，又是早晨八点钟了。我还记得这条古董街的道路是一块块小石板做成的，两旁的建筑物或者哥特式，或者巴洛克式，淡黄色，白玉色，总之古典韵味十足，这种氛围足以衬托得一杯咖啡更加美味。我已记不得那咖啡馆的名字了，但还认得路，往前一直走，抵达一栋宏伟壮观的尖顶大楼，往右拐，走几步路就能看到了。尤记得，那家咖啡馆帐篷绿色，门前摆着一张张黄色桌子，与黄色椅子，里面，响着轻轻的贝多芬钢琴曲……
我终于找到这家咖啡馆了，这回记住了它的店名：芳香馥郁咖啡馆。
当我步入其中的时候，不能不有些情绪波动，因为上回在这里邂逅她，就是她踏步而出的时候——椭圆形的脸蛋，时髦短发，身穿灰色呢大衣，脚踏绒毛靴子，步履轻快，从容不迫的走了出来，余下一片芳香，离开了这家咖啡馆。而我这时，也该是脚步轻快，却心境旖旎的吧，当然，和现实里的估计一样，我不会再度看见她从这里走出，我也不会与她插肩而过，那只会是电影里的浪漫故事而已。
但我很有耐心。我坐在里面一张面向柜台的咖啡桌边，当服务生朝我走来，我就装作点了一杯黑咖啡，然后望望窗边风景，以及一些窈窕活泼的青年男女，这么静坐了起来。就好象是我少年时，苦练素描技巧，心态沉静，而富有耐心。但一想到这点，我反而心情不稳定了，现实是我现在忙于事业，而不像年少时那么无忧无虑了，可以毫无牵挂，一心一意的追求绘画的境界。
窗外的光色从晨光变成日光，转瞬间就到了12点钟，正当我以为今天她不会进这间咖啡馆的时候，她来了。这时我正凝望窗外一辆属于21世纪风格的红色跑车时，目光怔然，思想悠悠，现在的年轻人都流行这个了。
“你好，这个座位有空么？”一道略微低沉的女士嗓音说道。
我转过头来，仰头一看，面前说话的女士，身穿贴近黄色的咖啡色呢大衣，头戴一顶军帽，肩膀垂落一条长长的浅黄色围巾，椭圆形的白皙脸蛋，虽然那短发已被军帽遮住，还是让我清楚地辨认出，她正是一月前，我在这间咖啡馆与她邂逅的女士。
“当然，这个座位空着，请坐。”我看着她把白色手提包放在桌上，纤纤坐下，又补充了一句：“说不定它就是专为你空着的。”
“是么，我好像认识你，我们一个月前在这家咖啡馆见过面，当时你和莱昂纳多坐在一起。”她说。
“我也记得你，那天你留一头短发，我想知道你为什么要剪一头短发？”
“为什么？我也奇怪你为什么要问这个？”
“因为我们这个世界，不是所有女性，都习惯留长发的么，她们认为披肩长发是能迷倒所有男性的。当然，我不这么认为，我觉得女性留短发同样具有别具一格的气质，自由，野性，非常性感。”
“呵呵，谢谢夸赞，我留短发只是为了舒服。”
“你能告诉我你的名字么？”我问。
“你先告诉我你是做什么的？”她反问。
“这个……”我犹豫了一下，还是如实回答，说：“我是某个油画城的CEO，同时也是一名画家，但没有梵高有名，我只是自认为是名画家而已。我喜欢超现实主义，就像是萨尔瓦多的名作‘记忆的永恒’，很美，表现一种概念，或者说是画家的想象力吧！我认为绘画是一门事业，但现实很烦恼，我的油画城顾客越来越少了，每个白天或夜晚走进去，都是空荡荡的，一个人也没有，或许就像我父亲所说的，我的油画城，之所以以前有顾客，是因为他有名誉，人们都是看在他的面子上来我这买画的……我很自愧，公司里的那些签约画家，多半是我的同学，与朋友，但这几年，绘画的生意在这个国家越来越难做了，人们宁可去夜市吃喝玩乐，也不愿欣赏艺术……”
“那么你以后打算怎么办？”她问。
“不知道，我已与家族作过赌注，如果今年我的油画城还是亏损，要靠家族的生意给工人支付工资，那么家族将不再拨钱给我。”
“既然是这样，那你想听真话么，让我告诉你该怎么办？”
“请说。”
“年轻人，我想告诉你，绘画不是艺术，而是商品，无论你从事什么工作，只要你生产的产品面对市场，是用货币进行交换的，那么它便是商品。而商品，货多人少的就廉价，货少人多的就昂贵。画作，就像一尊雕像，它是商品，因为人人都有观赏的需求，以及装饰的需要。但为什么购买画作的人少呢，因为它是固定不变的，当一个人买了一副画挂在墙上，这幅画就会伴随他的家庭一生。人们不会觉得家里的画幅看厌了再买一幅画。如果人人一生只买一幅画，那么，请问画家是不是一生也只靠一幅画的价格生存呢？而且，现实是还有很多人一生都不买一幅画的。艺术，不是食品，每个人天天都需要它……”
“假如画作是食品呢，观众看它一眼，它就会消化掉，变作虚无。”我笑了。
“是的，假如人们看画作一眼就吃掉它，那么我敢肯定，他明天还会购买一幅新的画作。”她也笑了。
“那么我的油画城就会变得像超市那么热闹！”我说。
“是的。”她回答。
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