Read Online Missing Rose (9781101603864) by Serdar Ozkan - Free Book Online Page B

complain. Nevertheless, Mathias decided to remind the waiter so they wouldn’t lose the remaining chocolate cookies to another customer. Just then, the waiter came to the table carrying two plates.
    Taking a bite of her vanilla cookie, Diana asked Mathias, “What are your goals? For your painting, I mean.”
    â€œI’ve only the one goal and that is to paint.”
    â€œI thought goals were about the future, aren’t they?”
    â€œThe future,” Mathias smiled. “Well, there’s a saying I like: ‘As long as time flows forward, the future which we are so mesmerized by is nothing but an untouched past.’”
    He wondered what Diana would make of this as he took his first bite out of his chocolate cookie.
    After a moment of silence, Diana said, “I suppose what you mean is that a day in the future becomes the ‘past’ with respect to the day that follows. And that following day is sure to come, because time flows forward. So, in reality, each day we see as the ‘future’ is nothing but a delayed ‘past.’ A past that isn’t yet touched by time . . . Did I get it right?”
    â€œI’ve never met anyone who put it better.”
    â€œBut all that seems too philosophical, and I don’t think it has any practical value in everyday life.”
    â€œHey,” he said smiling. “I just tried to answer your question.”
    â€œOh, sorry.”
    â€œActually, all I want to say is that I’d like to achieve my goals in the only time which really exists—that is, in the present. And that’s why I’ve chosen painting as my only goal.”
    â€œBut you must surely have some long-term plans?”
    â€œYeah, I do have a plan. I’m planning to work my way back to the small town I live in, near Paranaguá, by painting scenes all along the coast. At the end of the summer, I’ll hold an exhibition at one of the places I’ve painted.”
    So Mathias wasn’t from Rio . . . Actually she’d already guessed that. Yet the way Mathias said “the small town I live in, near Paranaguá” just like that—as if he were saying something of no importance—awoke a familiar feeling in Diana. Loneliness.
    â€œAnd,” Mathias said, interrupting her thoughts, “I’ve even planned the name for the exhibition: ‘The Changing Seas of Brazil.’”
    â€œSounds good.”
    â€œBut I don’t really know if I’ll be able to finish this project on time. And there are many other things I don’t know . . . If I finish the project on time, will I have enough money for an exhibition? And if I do, will I be able to find a suitable place for it; if I do, will I be able to get permission from the relevant authorities; if I do, will I be able to afford the publicity for it; if I can, will anyone show any interest in my paintings? If they do, will that satisfy me? Even if everything goes perfectly as planned, will I be happy? If I am happy, for how long will it last? Even if it lasts a long time, will I be able to overcome the fear that someday I’ll lose it? And the list of things I can’t know goes on and on . . .”
    â€œAnd on . . .” chimed in Diana.
    â€œYou see, that’s why I’ve decided that to paint is my only goal.”
    â€œSo, let’s say the exhibition actually happens, where’s it going to be?”
    â€œI don’t know yet; I’d decided before I set out that I’d have it wherever I painted the best painting.”
    They’d each finished their first cookie. Diana was left with a chocolate cookie on her plate and Mathias with a vanilla one. The order in which they’d both chosen to eat their cookies had attracted Diana’s attention. She had kept the one she liked best till last, whereas Mathias had eaten his favorite one first.
    It’s my turn now, thought Diana.