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Melbourne Box Hill: I like the way you walk
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I was walking through the subway at Box Hill station. A voice, stifled and unnaturally pitched, suddenly came across to me as if from nowhere.
‘I like the way you walk.’
I started, looking around, and suspiciously tracing the sound to a nice, cloud-shaped lighting device on the wall.
I stepped over, staring at the light. For a long while, I studied it and pondered over its lovely shape, till recognizing it was just a Mickey cat.
‘I like the way you TALK.’ I smiled to him, now assuring myself of a successful cat discovery.
‘You are the best thing since sliced bread.’ The cat said again, mewing merrily and intimately as though he hadn’t had a human eye contact for long.
‘Thank you, that is very nice of you saying so. And, you are the best thing since I Box Hilled.’ I rejoiced, in a reciprocal manner, even if not knowing the reason behind his flattering in the first place.
The yellow light in his eyes was glowing, shrewdly and mysteriously in the dimness of the tunnel. And within some moments, both of us seemed allured into a curious mood of exaltation, like running into an old friend in an unexpected, exotic place, whom you hadn’t seen for many many years.
‘I know you are a Chinese.’ He said, after passing the first phase of our delighted acquaintance.
‘Yes, I am. There are heaps of them living here.’ I acknowledged lightly, amused with the idea that a cat could have such a racial discrimination.
‘Really? Many of them in Box Hill?’ He looked surprised, eyes flashing.
‘Yes. I just saw some of them swaggering before you.’ I returned, feeling more surprised by his seemingly innocent ignorance.
‘Are they Chinese?’
‘Of course.’
‘Are their eyes black?’
‘Of course, without a shade of doubt.’
‘That I don’t know, because they didn’t look at me, and I can’t see the colour of their eyes.’
‘Well, you don’t have to rely on eye’s colour to identify a Chinese. You can check their hair, or even by their way of walking, or by any other distinguishable Chinese way.’
‘Not really, hair can be dyed, nowadays a lot of people doing that, and with regard to walking, I can’t see any difference of that between any humans. They all have two feet to walk on.’
‘Haha, that is true, we are not cats having four feet like you.’ I said chucklingly. ‘How about skin colour? The yellow skin is the major proving of Chinese identity.’
‘Technically, yes, but I find it hard to check the colour of a skin. Look at your face, you can’t say it is yellow or sallow, can you? It is almost swarthy and grey. And many Chinese-looking people, especially girls, have pale skin, even paler and lighter than Caucasian, god knows how much powder needed for that effect, or how many years shaded from the sun.’ The cat expressed his view solemnly, not unlike a cosmetic specialist.
‘But equally, you can’t simply judge from the colour of eyes, one can also do something to their eyes, implanting a colourful, invisible eye glasses.’ I challenged his confidence.
‘That doesn’t bother me; I am able to see through it. I have the Power of Nature into any eyes.’
‘Oh, I see.’ I assented, nearly ready to be convinced by his superior ability of ‘Power of Nature.’
‘How many Chinese have you identified so far?’ I asked, curiously.
‘You are the first one in the month.’
‘How? There are many of them passing here everyday.’ I retorted, thinking today was already three weeks into the month.
‘But they rarely turn and look at me like you, even if I call them.’
‘Why?!’
‘I don’t know, they always rush, haste and run. Last month I even saw a girl falling hard onto the ground.’
‘Ah?’
‘I was scared and worried about her and instantly miaowing “Are you ok?” but she didn’t hear me, or didn’t bother responding to me, I am only a cat, you know. ‘
‘Well, no doubt you are only a cat, but you have Nature of Power we don’t have.’ I said, intended to soothe his little indignation, but more concern about the falling girl. ‘What happened to her?’
‘She raised herself up quickly, one hand searched her bag, the other her glasses and then rapidly dusting her skirt, which was not dirtied at all in my eyes. She then ran away as if nothing was serious, or as if she had to feel ashamed of her falling in public, but I could see she was slightly limping on her way upon the steps.’
‘Ah, that was a scene, hope she was not badly hurt.’
‘Yeah, she was just unlucky, maybe she had something in her mind, or running late for the tram, I don’t know, people are a busy species like bees, the reason of which we cats could never, never understand. We cats, by our good nature, know how to lead a peaceful and pleasurable life any time, any place.’
‘Well..’ I was about to point out that cats will also have to run fast if they are not provided with enough foods by humans, but the enthusiastic cat didn’t give me a chance for my intercourse.
‘She was just unlucky,’ He continued, flicking his curly whiskers as if still reflecting the falling girl in his sympathetic mind, ‘but most of the running passengers manage their swift steps remarkably well. When she fell down, I didn’t see any of the passing people paused to heed, they just averted the object and pressed forward their own steps nicely.’
‘I think they were just hurried for the bus or the tram.’ I cut in, lest missing the moment.
‘Suppose so, it was actually in one of those people’s rush hours in the morning.’
The cat sighed, indicating the end of his story, and gave his attention back to me again.
‘But you are an exception, you walk very slowly, unlike many others coming to the tunnel. Have you nothing to do?’ he asked, his curious eyes fixed on me, though showing a strong hint of weariness, obviously from overly consuming his little cat’s passion for telling the story.
‘Well, I don’t live here. I am only a visitor from other place, only loafing about.’
‘No wonder, I like the way you walk. It is very much like our way of walk.’
‘What? Me, Cat’s Walk?’ I asked queerly, expecting a mockery face from him, but he had an honest and dignified expression, without betraying any possible knowledge that we humans do imitate their way of walking on modelling stage of fashion.
Yet I didn’t get any more response from him, for just then his eyes were already half closed, lids drooping, a sign telling the world he ought to sleep, right now right here, and nothing, nobody should bother him any slightest longer.
He was soon into deep sleep.
Standing there all by myself, a sudden feeling of loneliness seized me. I knew I didn’t lose him, he was just in his own sleep, in his own dream, in his own world. I looked at him, wistfully, spread my fingers, touched over the cloud face of him, feeling the warmth along the lighting curve, which comprised of many lovely, silvery beads. He didn’t have a hand for me to shake, to bid him a courteous farewell, but nonetheless, the weak and gentle pulsing of his soft face I have felt is to be alive ever longer in my palm, to be felt forever in my walking and wandering heart.
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色彩缤纷的下饭菜NO3~~锅盔盐菜回锅肉~60楼更新辣椒豆瓣酱做法 (2011-1-6) rongerchen 
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