Swimming was Flying for Cowards

图片取自 Imaginary Reads

  I always felt secure when I swam. The ground beneath my feet couldn't be taken away. It couldn't crumble, sink, or shift, couldn't gape open or swallow me up. I didn't bump into things that I couldn't see, didn't accidentally tread on things, didn't injure myself or others. You knew what water was going to be like, it always stayed the same. Okay, sometimes it was clear, sometimes black, sometimes cold, sometimes warm, sometimes calm, sometimes choppy, but its substance, if not its state of matter, always stayed the same: it was always water. And swimming was flying for cowards. Floating without the danger of falling. My stroke wasn't particularly beautiful——my leg kicks were asymmetrical——but it was brisk and strong, and I could go on for hours if need be. I loved the moment when I left the earth, the change in elements, and I loves the moment when I trusted the water to carry me. And it did, unlike the earth and the air. Just as long as I swam.


The Taste of Apple Seeds, p79~80
by Katharina Hagena, translated by Jamie Bulloch
ISBN 978-0-06-229347-3



~ 松露玫瑰 ~

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