Ghosting

When I was young, I was studying in Osaka. I once went to Nara to play during the day and returned to Kintetsu-Namba Station at night. Namba is a transportation hub in southern Osaka, where JR, subway, Nankai Electric Railway, Kinki Railway, etc. gather together. The house I rented is near Dotonbori, behind the famous food street. I usually get out here and walk back. There are always many tourists in Shinsaibashi, Nihonbashi, and Kuromon Market. It is raining lightly today, and the roads in the central district are mostly narrow and crisscrossed stone roads, which are covered with a layer of rain. At that time, I didn’t bring an umbrella and walked along the slippery road to a small courtyard nearby to take shelter from the rain. After a while, a few middle-aged people came out from a door, discussing something. That place is not like an art gallery, but more like a small bar, and there is no sign at the door. The door is connected, and there is a deep corridor that accommodates two or three people standing side by side. When I walked in, many people turned their heads to look at me, I thought I had something on me, and looked down at myself. The clothes were wet from the raindrops, and the fabric stuck to the skin in some places. It’s even more awkward to leave when I look up and glance at the wall full of nude photos. In Japan, there are many such small private photography exhibitions, but it seems to be rare in Osaka. Osaka is a bit like China in the past, more conservative. As a film student, I shouldn’t have this mentality when it comes to art, so I stood there, walking forward, staring at the photos, trying my best to ignore the eyes of others. I even stared for a long time in front of a photo, walked around, then came out and passed the traffic lights at the intersection as usual. “Excuse me.” I felt that the voice behind me was calling me, so I stopped and looked back. A strange boy stared at me, “What’s the matter?” My Japanese is good, I think he understands it, but I think he’s trying to avoid my sight, and I ask again, “What’s the matter with you, lad?” He With his head still half down, his voice was firmer than before: “I’m sorry, let’s play with me.” I stood on the side of the road, not knowing what to do for a while. The boy who looked only fourteen or fifteen years old was unusually calm, and I suddenly felt that this matter might be a little serious, so I said, “Sorry, I’m very busy right now…” Actually, there’s nothing to be sorry about, just when the green light came on, I Just run away in a hurry. At that moment my face seemed to turn red.

I have been remembering this scene since I returned home. But I can’t figure it out, why is my face red? I wasn’t mad at the boy, who asked me firmly with a confirmation on his face. Maybe it was my behavior at the photo exhibition that affected him. He thought what I should do. In fact, when I returned to Dotonbori’s residence that night, I took a shower and stared at myself in the mirror for a long time in the bathroom. Yes, I am not the same as before, even the face before going out this morning is different. The time of day is deposited in the fine wrinkles on the face, changing the direction of the lines. A wrinkle under the left eye is particularly deep, mainly due to heavy color and a little dirty. I rubbed it hard with facial cleanser, but it was useless. The wrinkle maintains a smooth angle, disappearing at the corner of the eye, as if penetrating the eyeball. I got closer to the mirror and looked hard at my eyeballs, but of course I didn’t see anything. The wrinkles disappeared, not where they went. This wrinkle did not leave me with maintenance and washing like other fine lines.

Here, look! right here.

She was willing to show me the wrinkles, and I was a little strange. It stands to reason that a well-known producer would not be so easy to get in touch with when meeting for the first time. People in many circles, like the other wrinkles she mentioned, disappeared without a trace in my life because of the lack of cooperation. That’s why I’m so impressed with her. She once said something that I remember to this day, “Movies are diseases, medicines are more movies.” I heard similar words from some senior directors before, but I don’t quite understand them. They advised me to watch less movies (especially criticizing movies is even worse, others are not so rational in how well they make it), it has nothing to do with what you want to do. You are not that person. You are the person who decides what you can do.

I have been struggling with what I can do, and the female producers mentioned above are the ones I met during the most troubled time. She was looking for a team for a commercial film, and asked for my phone number through a director for an appointment. I have seen all the movies she made before, and I felt that it was an honor to meet each other even if I didn’t cooperate, so I went.

The meeting place was at the coffee shop on the first floor of the Zhaolong Hotel. I went by the subway and got out of Tuanjiehu Station. When I went out, I found it was raining lightly. When I ran into the hotel door, I saw her in the seat in the southwest corner of the cafe from a distance. , seems to be flipping some scripts (I searched the internet for pictures of her before). I approached her until she saw me coming. I stretched out my hand and she gave me a light squeeze, letting me sit down and wait. She is younger than I thought, wearing sunglasses indoors, maybe it’s a habit. I don’t think it’s anything special. I often do this when I’m not too awake to talk to others at noon. After a while, I saw that she was done, and just about to speak, suddenly a voice came from behind, “Excuse me.” I felt that the voice behind me was calling me, so I looked back. A boy stared at me. “What do you need?” he asked.

Oh. I just realized that the boy might not be wearing overalls when he was changing shifts, so I quickly ordered a latte. The female producer smiled at me, laughed out loud, and then she said, ghosting! She has a strong southern accent. I’m a little curious, rerun? What rerun? And then there’s the story at the beginning.

It was a memory that we never saw again. The news of seeing her again was on Weibo. Many celebrities have posted their memories of her incident and expressed their condolences. Some netizens also expressed deep nostalgia for her sudden death.

That time, we met and chatted a lot. I remember she asked me what movie I liked. I forgot to mention which one. It was a well-known classic anyway. Then when we ate, we talked about whether movies should be right or wrong. For example, if a person kills a person, the more bloody it is, the more exciting it will be. The police investigation and the murderer are fighting wits and courage, and the two lines are parallel. How does the audience feel? The audience likes villains, which represents a special case in life. It has successfully escaped, and everyone will feel that the ordinary life has sprouted vitality. Many early Hollywood police and gangster films were shot like this, and the audience applauded and the box office was a big hit. At that time, I seemed to think that there is right and wrong in the movie, at least the kind of movie I want to make, not just what looks good. She smiled and patted me on the shoulder and said something that I can’t remember. We also talked about some classic movies, just casually. “Movies are diseases, medicines are more movies” is said in this atmosphere. Later, she didn’t ask me to cooperate in that play, also because she didn’t act like she was looking for a partner this time.

It was also at the Zhaolong Hotel, in the first half of the year. I don’t remember the specifics, it seems to be seeing an actor. After I finished chatting there, I came out of the coffee shop, and from the Tuanjiehu subway entrance, a girl in a black trench coat with a light gray short skirt inside (this dress is nothing in Sanlitun), lavender hair in the light rain flying in. I had nothing to do that day, so I followed up subconsciously. To avoid the rain, the two of us walked on the path beside the building. There are office buildings everywhere, and there is a rainy sky between each office building. We went forward three or four blocks of sky and came to an elevator entrance. The elevator entrance is made of glass. The rain is much heavier than before.

A gallery-like storefront opened across from the elevator entrance. Suddenly, the girl in the black trench coat ran in. The doors of the gallery are clear glass. I stood there, looking into the gallery. The girl in the black trench coat moved away from time to time, bowed her head in contemplation, leaned forward from time to time, circled inside, and finally stopped in front of a painting—I tried to probe hard, trying to see the content of the painting. This angle is just the blind spot, and when I retract my head from the rain under the glass roof, the girl is still staring at the painting.

At this time, the ringing of the phone startled me. I picked up the phone and it was a female voice: Hello, I’m Xiao Ai, don’t hang up yet… Listen to me, I’m 167, with big eyes, a melon face, and a good personality. The only downside is that I don’t have a male Friend, do you want to chat with me? Maybe we can move towards a happy life in the future…

anything else? I asked.

Ah? The girl made such a noise on the phone. The tone, balance, and mechanical sense before, I thought it was a recording of computer AI. I’ve heard similar words in many places, there should be a phone call, a URL, or a request to click the progress bar above, so I’m asking this.

Are you finished?

After the other party was silent for a while, he said, “I’m sorry for disturbing you.

The scene from the restaurant to the present, I find it interesting. When I put the phone away, the girl in the black trench coat in the gallery has already come out. She stood at the door, as if thinking about which way to go. Rain kept falling. For a moment, I really wanted to go up and say something to her. staring at her? Or half head down? The hard part is saying something. She was standing opposite, I was standing under the glass entrance of the elevator, and we didn’t move for a while. Her face was that youthful, somewhat over-makeup look. The pale blue eyeshadow faded. Interestingly, she also appeared in the glass door behind her. When I looked at her, I also saw myself beside me.

Which man always looks at himself? Looking at it, my heart is not so calm. The thing itself is not difficult, the difficult thing is that you want to do it, but there is no reason to do it, but you want it, you really want it, you really want it. There are not many things people can do in life, most of them are waiting. At that time, it was just waiting for the rain to stop now—the waiting that would be terminated by the girl leaving at any time, infinitely close, and in the distance where we were almost “cuddling” on the glass door, the waiting came to nothing.

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