Journal

At last, I got to the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall, walking toward the Performing Arts Library. Woefully, it was not open this morning so that I had no choice but having my breakfast first. Because I had to wait until the library opened at twelve o’clock, I decided to eat at the MOS Hamburger for brunch. This MOS beside the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall was an outside restaurant; thus, there were always a crowd of birds flying back and forth. Sitting outsides, I enjoyed my delicate hamburger, full of plenty of jade-green lettuces, a piece of think and juicy beef with a spoon of dense sauce. Gradually, the gloom and doom in my heart dispersed. I could feel my heart beating. I raised my head and saw the sun come out of the overcast clouds. The dazzling sunshine enlivened the greens. The oily-smooth leaves on the tops of branches turned into gorgeous decorative lights. The grizzled butterflies strewing around the air were like white flakes.
When I was enjoying the fresh moment, there were several sparrows coming down and gathered beside my table. I was delighted, peeling a slice of hamburger, and threw to them. One of these sparrows vied to be first, skipping to hold the slice of bread in mouth, and fluttered to the sky. Others tried to pursue him. Less than one minute later, a large flock flied swiftly downward. I was stunned. I was personally on the amazing scene in The Birds, directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Every pair of sharp eyes covetously stared at the hamburger in my hand. I attempted to bait them, pretending I was peeling another slice and throwing toward them. At once, the whole flock moved fast as a dark tornado, malicious and brutal. They all swooped down and found that there was nothing on the ground. They started to be disturbed. Some were still seeking. Some were gazing at me with offensive eyes. I felt victorious when seeing such a hilarious scene.
At the same time, I believed this was the way God tricked with human beings, just like how the gods on the top of Mount Olympus treated the mortal men in the Greek mythology. Suddenly, I recalled the dog I met in front of my house early that morning—did we look on God as the dog begged me? The sun, gradually, was not delighted to me any longer. The daylight near noon began to burn my eyes and skins. Having a whirling sensation and a tendency to fall, I felt weary so that I waved my both hands, trying to drive the annoying feeling away. These sparrows, as pulsating dried leaves spreading all over, were alarmed and sweeping with a dust storm. The sands and dirt spun and I barely even breathed. Seeing a blur, I moved fast to leave my table and food. I walked toward the Performing Arts Library in the parking lot in the basement, shading the light like a dagger.
Before the library opening, I was waiting in the basement. In a little while, I felt I was in the cave from Plato’s allegory. I was not as grand as Socrates, released from the chains, coming out from a cavernous chamber underground and faced directly to reality under the sun, the Goodness. I was like the other prisoners, too dazzled to make out the objects whose shadows they had been used to see in the underground, turning back to the things which they could see distinctly. I was forced to look at the fire-light itself, the cruel world, making my eyes ache, so that I might try to escape. Now, like in the damp and sultry vault, there was an administrator at long last arriving to open the entry to the library. Getting inside, I was lost in thought.