(tiếp tục "một tờ, một trang": có một cú ngoặt rất khủng khiếp; cũng tiếp tục 2400: cả ở đó - cũng - có ngoặt, khủng khiếp không kém)
"cầu thì không phải để nối hai bờ, mà cầu là để đi trong lòng"
(Etdung Kaovi - yes he's back)
tiếp tục (the show must go on):
Cây cầu ở đây là cây cầu trong cuốn sách của nhân vật ấy.
(và, đã có thể đọc)
"Infinite like the distance between one’s I and one’s You: from both sides, from both poles the bridge is built: in the middle, halfway, where the carrier pylon is expected, from above or from below, there is the place of the poem. From above: invisible and uncertain. From below: from the abyss of hope for the distant, the future-distant kin." (P.C.)
ReplyDelete"Beside the Pont Marie, a small bridge positioned just off the Rue des Nonnains-d’Hyères. The bridge arches gently over the Seine before disappearing into the crowds on the Île Saint-Louis. Out of view, the Pont will continue until it merges with the Pont de la Tournelle, before resuming its journey on the Left Bank, at which point Paris will cease to be accessible to you. At the entrance of the bridge, you will re-enact a series of attempts at crossing the structure, each time finding yourself unable to master the unfamiliar terrain that divides you from the rest of the city. Faced with the prospect of navigating the bridge, your body emits a series of sensations and movements, which, despite being familiar to you, still mark the possibility of a trauma yet to be written into your flesh. Having broken free from the tip of the bridge, a dozen or so people pass you by. Disorientated, you stand ground, waiting for the glare of the sun to withdraw into the shadowline. Other people come and go in this process. Some move beyond the bridge back into the Marais while others proceed onwards towards the bustle of the Left Bank. A handful of people stop in the middle of the Pont Marie, pausing in the twilight. For you, no such freedom is available. You remain at the arch of the structure, impatient with your inability to journey beyond the adjoining Quai des Célestins and onto the bridge itself. Part of this ritual, as you will admit to yourself, is not without a certain love and fascination. As much an experience of anxiety, the ritual of the bridge crossing is also a form of infatuation. In your inability to cross the bridge, you are also overwhelmed with a fixation on the bridge, and without this fixation, your sense of self would come undone.
ReplyDeleteWhere to place yourself in this dizzying world? Two options present themselves. The first option is to align yourself in relation to the road, which carries with it the risk of being overwhelmed by the passing traffic, much of which consists of cyclists and the occasional bus, though very few cars. The alternative is to cling onto the small wall, which defends you from the river below. The wall is continuous with the road, forming a barrier against the depths, and at first glance, strikes you as the favourable option. As you position yourself towards the edge of the bridge, holding the wall with one hand and supporting your balance with the other, you look down to the river below. The waters flow evenly and gently, interrupted only by the passing of tourist boats, who proudly proclaim how the Pont Marie has entered the mythology of the Parisian landscape as the ‘lover’s bridge’.
But in the romance there is also anxiety. In the midst of your attempt at getting placed on the bridge, an opposing desire to jump into the river below emerges. To descend into the Seine would mean desensitizing yourself to your problematic relation to bridges by way of affirming the anxiety that engenders the phobia in the first place. Having survived the fall, you would resurface on the riverbanks a different person. Thereafter, the bridge would lose its power to determine where you can and cannot move in this world."