Stories of Love

De Javù

A somewhat sequel of Nikos De Javù Father and Daughter short film by Michael Dudok de Wit Or more like a different point of view of it and developed into a different kind of story.

She had always been fascinated by the lake. A vast land poured by water so many that it created an immitative image of a deep sea bathed in blue. But it's not always blue. Sometimes it's green, somewhat orange, meddled with shades of brown. All combinations created by reflections of trees and its mix of leaves with different values, or also coloured by the reflected light of the setting sun.

Watching the sun set from the lakeside in silence and deep sincerity had been a daily routine of her father. With the barely five year old her tagged along, and unconciously starting to develop a bond, a certain fondness, towards these enigmatic phenomenon of nature.

She used to sit behind her father, watching as he pedaled the huge bike that her legs could barely reached, and together they roamed through the suburbian street heading towards the lake.

The lake.

When they got there, she would jump down from the bike and let him set the bike on one of the many trees. There they would did their usual routined, her father's usual routine, before heading back home after the sky got dark.

Perhaps she got her fascinations from her father, as he was the one who introduced her to it. Though she never knew what exactly he enjoyed from it. He always just looked through the far other end of the lake, with empty eyes yet so absorbing of the beauty surrounding him. It was almost like he didn't even look at anything at all and just drowning into the scenery all around, but he always seemed so sad.

For whatever reason that she could never understand, perhaps for her whole life.

The year was 1891. She was ten when her father suddenly decided to take a boat and went on a long journey, exploring through the lake looking for some kind of mysteries that she was not aware what. He left her there, saying nothing, nothing sort of goodbye. She was just there, sitting and watching as his back slowly disappeared, merging into one with the horizon.

She thought he would come back and they would be back home after dark just like they always did. She swore to herself she would wait there like a good girl all the while watching out for his bike, still leaned on against a nearby tree, absolutely sure he would come back.

Except he didn't.

By then, she wondered why. But time kept passing by and it was way too dark for her to keep waiting on him so she figured she'd just go back home bringing the bike.

She had always wondered why. The next day she came to the lake tagging along the bike, preparing and waiting for his return. And if he still hadn't come back by the sunset, she could always go back home then come back here next afternoon.

Years passed, she still sat by herself, watching the vast lake, looking through the far end of the horizon just like her father did, with her father's bike neglected carelessly not far from her.

Always heading there afterschool, walking along with the old bike, which to her no longer seemed so huge now that she had grown. But even after growing up she still couldn't ride the bike. She just brought it along with her, refusing to ride it because she couldn't figure out how. Having her father nevet let her ride it when he's still around gave her hope that he would be back someday.

She was always in denial, refusing to believe that her full of mystery old man would never come back. She never let her aunt and uncle's word got to her, but yes she admitted sometimes that maybe they were right.

She wondered why. She always thought why but even after thinking so hard and deep she still couldn't get her answer.

And so she came there to also think. Of why. Of how. Of what ifs. Of when. When her father would return, and came back home to her. But she always got back filled with the same sense of oblivion and the ever-growing uncertainty.