Page 69 - CTI65eng-Emaga

tinted with a trace of weariness under the orangish light A nosegay bloomed on the counter where standing
reflected through the extravagant glass chandelier; or in a dozen or so wine bottles within a couple of quick
those brightly sunlit pictures by Pierre-Auguste Renoir, brushstrokes. The whiteness of the flowers dyed with the
the happiness of getting together with friends in a cafe warm orange of lamplights shining over them remind-
on a Sunday afternoon was not unlike that brimming in ed Vincent of the snow white linen scarf covering the
his Luncheon of the Boating Party. He knew the sweet- chestnut hair of Virgin Mary, since in those religious
ness of cafe, of course, he knew it by heart: the leisure paintings it also mysteriously glowed in the holy light
of drinking a cup of coffee brewed from premium emanating from the newborn Savior. This small night
coffee beans while bathing in the outdoor warm sun- cafe, the shabby manger where Christ was born, a
light, the slow passage of time between the flipping strange association linking the two was somehow
pages of a lighthearted novel with a soft kitten purring formed in his mind on the ground that they both served
at your feet, and the blessing joy of exchanging ideas as a refuge for those in need.
with likeminded strangers He saw, in this special
whom you encountered by haven for down-and-outs and
chance in a street corner cafe. The bitterness derelicts at night, the misfor-
“What an intoxicating tunes of destitution, obscurity,
sweetness!” he sometimes could of coffee loneliness, indecent passions
not help but exclaim. But he and capricious fate, and he was
knew even better, from the bot- lingering on the one of the victims to such cru-
tom of his heart, that such bour- elties of life as well. That was
geois sweetness of coffee drink- tip of his tongue the bitterness of life that in-
ing was never the theme of his volved numerous nameless
artistic creation. began to vanish souls, the uncomfortable ele-
“My art is…” the artist se- ments which most artists de-
riously pondered on this signif- at this moment, liberately shied from, or tried
icant subject while applying to varnish in some ways. But,
large quantity of yellow, his the sweet just like he invariably insisted
favorite color, to the floor of the on the bitterness of black cof-
cafe room in the painting. He aftertaste mixed fee, he obstinately concentrat-
murmured under his breath, ed his then unrecognized ge-
“art for me…is supposed to be with a trace nius of painting on depicting
something…that lasts longer… those who were pathetically
that touches greater humanity of refreshing struggling in the bitter reality,
like The Sower by Millet …no, yet never for a second giving
not the transient gaiety of acidity vaguely up the fiery lust for life. The
those well-dressed urban fel- bitterness of coffee lingering
lows in a bustling day cafe, emerged. on the tip of his tongue began
but…” He stopped the brush- to vanish at this moment, the
work, and turned his tender sweet aftertaste mixed with a
and sympathetic gaze to those faces abused by all trace of refreshing acidity vaguely emerged. The
kinds of sufferings of life: an agonizing miner whose phantasmic sweetness after bitterness felt so good
newlywed wife just ran away because of the despair- that he chose to close his eyes for a minute to per-
ing poverty, a coquettish prostitute who was forced ceive it more clearly. Wandering thoughts that came
to trade her body for a loaf of bread to feed her little with this contrasting tasting experience brought him
kid back home, and two wandering strangers who could back to the impoverished family of peasants who
not afford a place in a hotel to stay overnight…they all kindly posed for his The Potato Eaters three years
made themselves at home in this countryside cafe, no ago. In this dungeon like room, the humble mother
matter what kind of cruelties of life had happened to holding a small teapot blackened with soot were
them, thanks to the mercy of Monsieur Ginoux to allow bending slightly at the table to pour hot cheap coffee
them to stay until morning at a modest cost of a cup into the cups for her family members who had la-
of homemade coffee. bored all day long outside.

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