Five Spice Street

‘‘Once upon a time, there was a day, an afternoon, when a cloud drooped and the fragrance of grass sizzled in the air-it was very likely the beginning of our story. I was almost ready. If it weren’t for hard realities and if I hadn’t been swept away by decadent emotions, everything would have been realized. Now it’s completely over. You may go on making silly assumptions or-like children-put yourselves in the other’s position and taste fiery romantic emotions. Be my guest. But I’m surer than anyone about everything. I’d stand behind you and sneer in despair. Until the day that you turn back penitently and change your ways completely, no one will be able to fish the real story out of my mouth. I want to preserve my moral integrity and keep a clear head in this world of disordered manners and morals. I just want to live out the rest of my ordinary life simply and quietly. I don’t want to lose my pure essence by associating with certain people just to cut a fine figure.’’

The Report of X’s Husband’s Good Friend (the One Who Looked at the ID Card)

‘‘The beginning? My God! As soon as you mentioned the beginning, I fell back into complicated, confusing worries. Every one of Madam X’s beginnings was also mine. Her innumerable affairs had formed innumerable nested boxes in my life. As soon as you mention some new beginning, I become incredibly tense: my whole body is like a tautly drawn bow. Ever since X moved to our street, I’ve been close friends with her husband, and her main guardian. It’s been non-stop disaster. Every time it seemed the trouble had finally ended, you breathed a long sigh and sat down to rest your frazzled mind. Just then, she would create a new disturbance, and so you had to spring to your feet again, as if you’d had an electric shock. No one can imagine how much her energy can flower. Almost every minute, almost every second, she’s plotting a new beginning. Her husband’s been in deep shit because of her, and I’m on affectionate terms with him. Socializing with her has sapped every bit of my strength. I was beat. I suffered from dizziness and loss of appetite every day. My life became a living hell. For a few years now, not only have I not eaten meat, but I’ve even stopped the most important thing-making love with my wife. I’ve become as thin as a shadow. Has X been grateful for the pains I’ve taken? It hasn’t turned out the way anyone could have expected!

‘‘One day, she summoned me to her room. She stared hard at me for ten minutes with her pupil-less eyes and then fiercely shoved me away. Shaking all over, she pulled her hair hysterically with both hands and paced back and forth in the room. She’d behaved like this for half an hour (how astonishingly patient I was!) when, finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. I cleared my throat and gingerly asked if she was feeling a little better. Listen to her reply: ‘Did I call you over here? I remember there was some person who often came here without being asked. He was always around. Is it possible that I asked you here-what on earth is this all about? Are you mistaken? Did I really ask you to come? Don’t you have your own business to attend to? It really isn’t good for you to be so concerned with other people.’ What inconsiderate manners! From that day on, whenever she ran into me on the street, she crossed her eyes and didn’t look at me. If I blocked her way, she just charged across, as if I were a scarecrow. When I dropped in to reason with her, she said she simply hadn’t seen me: blocking her way was really a big mistake because she wasn’t likely to see me. It would have been better for me to stay at home and make little clay figurines: that’s much better for both mind and body. Maybe it would lead to my being artistic! And maybe I would discover the meaning of my existence from it! Why did I have to bother myself with this crazy shit?