Life

The Thrown Oranges: A Story of Love, Loss, and Regret

A thirteen or fourteen-year-old girl who was going to work as a servant in a distant place was dressed in ragged clothes, with a bleak face and chilblains on her hands and face. She was holding a train ticket in the third-class car, but she didn’t know the situation, so she ran to the second-class car in a daze. Regardless of the soot and cold, she struggled to open the heavy glass window, “I” was about to reprimand her, but found that she only wanted to dye five or six “sunshine-like warm colors” in her arms when the train passed by a small village. Oranges”, tossed to her younger brothers who were waiting by the railway to see her off…
  This is a work published by the novelist Akutagawa Ryunosuke in 1919. I always feel that the one in the novel who looks on coldly is first full of feelings for the girl. The “I” who despises and then looks at him differently is actually Ryunosuke Akutagawa himself.
  I don’t like to get up early to catch the train on holidays, and I’m smothered in the crowd, the air is stuffy and humid, and I almost want to use Akutagawa Ryunosuke’s white handkerchief to cover my mouth and nose. I was dazed in my seat for a long time, until the train jumped out of the ground, and a touch of golden morning sun penetrated the window, and I suddenly came back to my senses, and the journey slowly unfolded along the railroad tracks.
  The train passed through ponds and fields, and also ran through small towns. Maybe it was Sunday morning. Although the carriages were crowded, the streets of the town were very empty, as if they were still sleeping in their peaceful dreams. The iron rolling door of the eyes has not been pulled up yet, today is not necessarily a day for business, but a day when you can stay out of bed. “What a quiet world that is!” I sighed in my heart, and inexplicably remembered this little story. I guessed that what was thrown to the children might be the kind of small yellow fruit with thin and tight skin. Reality. I don’t know if those oranges were broken or not. What the three younger brothers shared was the joy of getting precious fruits, or they also understood the feelings of reluctance in the hearts of some sisters who were about to travel far and suffer.
  And who will remember this taste forever?
  Passing by a small town that has not yet woken up, I deeply feel how romantic and regrettable it is. Modern people are limited by time pressure and sophistication, so they can only live alone in their own depression; “walking and stopping in a hurry” makes us seem ruthless and desireless, as if we live only for the distant place. However, the tiny fragments of life collide with the world every moment. How much I want to find out what kind of thoughts and connotations are hidden in those strange places I have traveled.
  In the encounters and misses every day, the momentary origin and extinction seem meaningless, but if you deeply appreciate a movement, a breath, a look or a light and shadow that exist around your life, many feelings are like a girl struggling The thrown oranges have unspeakable vicissitudes. And we may be able to understand some more complex emotions and values ​​at the moment when we glimpse the life of others.
  On the train, one scene after another of the scenery flies by, eating very sweet bread, and suddenly I want to taste the oranges in the novel that are dyed with the warm color of the sun.
  The train goes out of the cave, and the small hills in the distance are green and grassy. It’s really a windy and sweet holiday! I thought, if I was young and I was standing at an inevitable turning intersection, and the train rumbled past, what kind of feelings should I use to catch the oranges my sister threw from her story?

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