Maung Pout Htun - Chit Thit Yee (P, Du)

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[ 1 ]

Spring of 1914,

The city of Paris seemed to be displaying all its intoxicating beauty.

Everywhere you look, plants and flowers are in full bloom. The wide streets lined with lush green trees are bustling with pedestrians. Boats of all kinds move slowly on the calm waters of the Sein River. Seeing people sitting and drinking drinks in the roadside cafes is like looking at a masterpiece by the famous artist Kyaw Moe Ney.

"Reuben Hatch, as he slowly perceived the breathtaking scenery, was filled with a sense of peaceful delight, and even imaginative thoughts entered his mind.

If a person had to choose only one of his favorite desires, he would definitely choose painting as his first choice. But this is just his fantasy. It is not a real dream. Fantasy and reality are two different things. Desire demands it, but life does not give it.

In fact, Ruben Hatch doesn't have to dream about his future. Isn't his life already perfect? ​​Of the four brothers in the "Hat" family generation, including him, the life insurance for all four has already been firmly established from the cradle to the end of life...

For about two hundred years, from the time of Reuben Hatt's grandfather, Isaac Hatt, to the time of Reuben Hatt's father, Nathan Hatt, the men of the Hatt family were renowned lawyers. Reuben's father, Nathan Hatt, was also a member of the House of Representatives at one time.

The Haight family law firm is renowned throughout the country. The names of five Haight family lawyers are magnificently engraved on a brass plaque at the entrance.

His son, Reuben Hatch, observed that Mr. Nathan was particularly pleased with the way his family was doing.

Reuben's mother, Sarah Hatch, had given birth to a son every two years, and stopped when she had four. Nathan Hatch believed that his sons would be the heirs of the Hatch family, and that they would continue the family line. During the reign of Lord Chancellor Benjamin Disraeli, a Hatch member of Parliament was also elected to the House of Commons.

It used to be.

Therefore, Nathan Hatch was not the most proud or happy. Karma had worked out well for him, hadn't it?

Of the four sons, three were married, and all three married wealthy women. The eldest, Maurice, married Sylvia Rockchild. Philip married Matilda Lilienthal. Leon married Deborah Meyer. All three sons' wives were wealthy women known throughout England.

The youngest son is Reuben.... Reuben is the only one left to marry. He is also engaged to marry a beautiful girl named Jocelyn Sassoon in the next few months. Sassoon is also a rich and powerful woman. Mr. Nathan is very proud and happy that his youngest son chooses a rich and beautiful woman. What else does he need in life?

But... on this spring evening in the heart of Paris, the thoughts of the youngest son, Rubin, were different from those of his father. Just as his father was overjoyed for one reason, he was overjoyed for another.

He wandered dreamily along the cobblestone streets of the Montmartre district. He was also very happy in his heart. He was quietly enjoying the scenery of Paris, which was a blend of both historical and modern beauty.

Rubin had left London for Paris on vacation. When he arrived in Paris, he found an apartment in the Left Bank district. His parents had no idea he was staying there. The room had been given to him temporarily by his friend Emile Jonay.

Paris was a paradise for Rubin. He was captivated by the beauty of Paris. He felt a sense of exhilaration. He had a freedom that he could not have in his homeland. When he was at home, his mind had felt confined. Now that he was in Paris, he was free and happy, like a bird released from its cage.

He walked along Laodian Street, then turned right and continued walking. When he reached Sylvia Beek's bookstore, his steps stopped abruptly.

His thoughts drifted between the past and the present.

I imagined world-famous figures like the poet Ezra Bund and the writer James Joyce. These figures had entered and exited this small bookstore, which was not very attractive from the outside, many times.

As I walked, I came to 27 Flora Street. This house was where the American writer Gertrude Sutter had lived for over 10 years. She opened her own art gallery and generously supported the development of all forms of art, including literature, music, painting, and sculpture. She herself wrote many poems, short stories, and art criticism.

Rubin stood on the street and looked across the street to the house. The teacher would sit in this study surrounded by world-famous works of art, writing world-famous works of literature.

Ben imagined. When he thought about the great and famous artists, he felt a little self-conscious. He had a natural passion for art, but due to circumstances, he had become a lawyer in his current life. The thought that he would never be able to even approach the doors of the great art palace made him feel a little sad.

He immediately dismissed the thought. He thought to himself, "Even though I'm not a famous artist myself, I'm happy to be standing on this street, somehow connected to such famous artists."

Then he took out a cigarette, lit it, and leaned against a street lamp, sighing contentedly.

He looked at his clothes and suddenly laughed. His shoes were dirty canvas shoes, his pants were baggy jeans, and his shirt was a brown, wide-necked, long-sleeved sweater.

How much his father would be angry if he saw him wandering around like this in the middle of a great European city like Paris. His father was a very strict man, a man who took the proverb "The basket is the basket, the clothes are the people" very seriously.

Rubin imagined that his father would be dressed in black and worshipping God in a London synagogue on this “Yuan Kapu” day. But Rubin and his father had different interests. His father was a devoted follower of God. Rubin had been in love with Paris for two years. His father dressed in a gentlemanly manner and knelt before God. Rubin dressed in a simple, simple way and worshipped Paris, the goddess of the underworld.

With this thought in mind, Ruben walked along the waterfront. He climbed the stone steps and passed in front of the world-famous Notre Dame Cathedral. He suddenly remembered two things to do.

First, he had been in Paris for exactly three days. But... he had not written a single letter to his bride-to-be, Jocelyn. Second, he had not eaten anything since morning. So he decided to do both at the same time, and first bought a postcard and a stamp at a nearby shop. After coming out of the shop, he kept walking, hoping to find a restaurant, and then he started to write the message he wanted to write on the postcard.

“My dear Jocelyn... Please forgive me for not being able to write to you right away, my love. Since the day I arrived in Paris, I have been so excited. There are so many things to see... There are so many things to see, the paintings of famous people like Cezanne... Picasso are amazing. Time flies just by looking at them... My love, and... The Museum of Modern Art is also a wonder to me that I can't stop looking at...”

Hey... what I'm writing is a travelogue... not a love letter, but a rewrite.

“My dear Jocelyn..., I... have never forgotten you since the day I arrived in Paris. I apologize for not being able to write to you right away... My love, it has been quite difficult to find accommodation in Paris this year, so I have been delaying this much. I am always counting down the days until I can return soon, my love, my dear Ruben....”

I entered a cafe and sat down at an empty table in a dimly lit room. The cafe was packed with people. Artists, writers, visitors from abroad, people without a fixed place to live, etc. It was a diverse group of people. However, they all had the same purpose in coming to this place. I felt like I was being ignored.

Isn't it natural to want to escape from life's problems for a moment with the help of wine, to have a hearty dinner with a little money, and then to make friends and share our feelings? When you're going through some difficulty, it's natural to feel relieved when you can just open up to someone.

Rubin sat alone at the table, barely able to hear the conversations from the nearby tables. He soon

He became one with his surroundings, and his mind was filled with happiness and contentment. The idea of ​​writing to his lover Jocelyn had vanished.

"What would you like to have?" the waiter in a long-sleeved shirt asked as he approached his table.

Rubin glanced at the large food price list on the wall.

Fried snails... lettuce... onion soup... bread... cheese and wine, regular wine, fine wine, white, red... all available. The prices are not too high, just like on any other day.

He ordered onion soup, bread, cheese, and red wine. He remembered the postcard with the Eiffel Tower. He took the postcard out of his pocket and began to write, "To my insatiable Jocelyn..."

At that moment, the whole room was filled with commotion and noise, and the writing hand stopped abruptly. Along with the pulsating sound of the gypsy violin,

A cool, clear song emerged. The sound of the song was unique. As clear and cool as the sound of flowing water, it had the power to captivate and capture the emotions of the listener.