These foolish things 這些傻事 - Anna May Wong 黄柳霜

To my dearest Anna:

I don't know if you will be able to read this letter or not. It has been a long time since we've seen each other.

To a lot of people, they always have hope. They were always alive until they reaches a point in their lives in which they cease to really live. They arrive at a place where they surrender hope - of being successful in business, or writing a decent novel, or finding true love.

When they do, they begin to die. A little inside every day.

To me, when you left me one last time, that is the time I begin to die. The years started to went by in peace. Time goes faster the more hollow it is. Lives with no meaning go straight past you like trains that don't stop at your station.

It is so strange, because I always complained about not having enough time. Now I have all the time in the world, longing for you. Grieving like a hopeless man without his heart. Hollow.

And hopeless.

During the War, I've killed my fair share of people. I have no remorse with any of them. Now I cannot stop hating myself for letting you go. This is the biggest regret in my life. I should have stayed. I should have stood by you. I should have supported you.

Now, I will have to whither my meaningless life, or what ever left of it, with every pieces we had.

I remembered the first time I saw you walking along Broadway street. It was snowing. You were like an angel to me. Time stopped eternally at that point. I was a depressed writer, a disgrace in MI-6. After seeing you, I regained the strength to live. I became a complete man.

And the rest is history.

We had such a great time. I remembered your dim sum and wanton cooking. During those time of Great Depression, it was God's gift to me. I remembered our daily night stroll across Central Park. You act out the play I just finished for Broadway. It was better than all the applause they gave me in New York Times.

However, I destroyed everything. I know we loved each other, but we cannot be together because of stupid little things. I am unworthy. I am a coward. I am a bastard. I want to repay for what I did or did not do. But it is too late now.

You have left forever.

I just want you to know that, I love you. Even though my love will never have a response, that it will die waiting. I want you to know that no matter what happened, I will love you until the day I die.

Love,
Eric

P.S: I took this picture at Park Wilshire. Val was in the picture. You look wonderful.
P.P.S: And yes, the song is about you. The song is for you. The song is my love to you.

These foolish things

A cigarette that bares a lipstick's traces
An airline ticket to romantic places
Still my heart has wings
These foolish things remind me of you.
A tinkling piano in the next apartment
Those stumblin'words
That told you what my heart meant
A fair ground painted swings
These foolish things remind me of you.

You came, you saw, you conquered me
When you did that to me
I knew somehow this had to be
The winds of march that made my heart a dancer
A telephone that rings but who's to answer
Oh, how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things remind me of you

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