Red Daisy

Overwrought by a morning of hard work, I set out for a nap after a small portion of biscotti and a cup of herbal tea, as usual. Afterwards, instead of following my routine of going to the study for continuation of productive work in the afternoon, I ventured out for a short walk around the neighborhood for some fresh air.
 
I knew my neighborhood very well as I have resided here for decades, since early childhood.  I never had any desire for the outside for I had everything I had wanted at home. I dedicated my life to writing and have become the world-renowned writer. I'd gained honor, dignity, and prosperity, all of which I'd been determined to achieve.
 
During the walk, however, I saw the strangest red-haired man with a contorted face I have never seen before. Although I tried to forget about such an unpleasant sight, I couldn’t. I had hard time going to sleep even. The red creature came upon me with such suddenness and passion like a seizure and a hallucination. My heart throbbed with terror, yet with an inexplicable longing to travel.
 
For the first time in my sixty years of life, I craved for a change in scenery and a sense of freedom, and before long, I found myself sipping coffee on the train without any sort of plan of where to go or how long I’d be gone for.
 
I was not used to this new way of life for I had been used to a strict daily routine, always getting up early in the morning for a cup of tea and biscuits and morning work, light lunch and a short nap, and then the long afternoon work that ended right before bedtime. I toiled with a great amount of concentration and as a result I have become one of the most prolific writers, not to mention many honors and recognition my works have received.
 
Fortunately, however, my worry of not knowing what to do quickly got resolved when I saw the most beautiful girl in a café in Barcelona. She was playing the violin with such vitality and passion I never knew before. This is IT, I thought. I was astonished anew, yes, startled, at the godlike beauty of this girl, whose name I later found out was Daisy, as well as the dazzling intensity of life she carried herself with as she made the most glorious music.
 
From that day, no, from that moment on, I followed the footsteps of this absolute beauty and brilliance. Daisy was “on holiday,” crisscrossing all of Europe, constantly moving from one city to another; she was usually with various gentlemen or lady friends. In every new destination, she dutifully fulfilled her tasks as a tourist with an exceptionally high spirit, visiting churches, palaces, and shopping for souvenirs, and always looked for the ideal restaurants, often dining earlier than suppertime or returning back to the one she dined before.  She usually carried a map and a camera with her, and I did so too. As a tourist, I had the privilege of carrying a camera everywhere and taking as many photographs. Through the lenses, I could zoom in on her when I found myself at a difficult distance.
 
It wasn’t long till when I realized that Daisy was the talk of the town and everywhere else she went. The problem was that she had not been following the code of conduct for a young lady like herself. It was hard to tell whether she was aware of that her behavior was disapproved. She seemed careless, fully absorbed in her own life, travelling from one place to another, engaging with one gentleman than another. Whether she was purely innocent like her name suggests or somehow intentional, I had no idea. All I knew was that she enjoyed wearing red and looked her best in it. That she was a beautiful American girl, liberal, high-spirited, full of natural liveliness.
 
One day, in Rome, she met an Italian gentleman of good character and stature, and the two would stay out late, raising eyebrows on the established American expatriates. It was quite a scandal and an embarrassment on the American community in Italy when the gentleman invited her to stay at his cottage in the countryside, in the southern part of Italy, by the most beautiful scenic beach.
 
It was literally the heaven on earth. In this paradise, Daisy would swim in the cool, walk along the sandy beach, have fresh seafood, and talk with her friend. Fully exposed to the grandeur of nature, I could see the real Daisy, even more brilliant and beautiful and pure, away from all the critical, judging eyes.
 
I also found consolation in nature, a sense of being home I have never known before, in the bright sunshine, in the white sand, and in the clear cool water.  My time there was the most beautiful and rejuvenating. All time had stopped and I couldn’t care less about anything other than myself being fully absorbed by light. Out in nature and in the presence of the most perfect beauty, I was so inspired every moment to write. My pen just moved and wrote the most genius stories ever as I took the beauty in Daisy and Mother Nature as my model.
 
Daisy aspired to be a writer. She would write non-stop but without much success. Her close friend and mentor encouraged her to take time and get experience, just like her hero Kerouac did. Seeking adventure and any sort of experience, she had set out to travel.
 
On the fourth day in the earthly paradise, however, the most bizarre and unfathomable happened. Daisy had vanished. Her disappearance was on the newspaper and the police got involved after her Italian friend called the cops. Daisy, my beautiful Sputnik Sweetheart, had managed to cross over to the other world, I figured. Although she wouldn’t know my existence like I knew hers (our eyes only met once throughout the entire journey), she had been my travelling companion all along.

As I packed my belongings, with a renewed sense of life I never knew for all my life, it came to me. It wasn’t Daisy who had vanished into the other side. I had stepped into the real world, where real life is. I stopped tailing Daisy of immense beauty and passion, a young girl who taught me the greatest lesson.
 
 
Exclusive Interview with the International Bestseller:
 
Q: How does the story relate to your primary interest and expertise in travel studies? Could you name some literary allusions?
 
A: This story is the first of my works in which I painstakingly intended on using various allusions and themes from various travel fictions, some of which are my favorite novels. The narrator is very much like Aschenbach in Thomas Mann’s Death in Venice, a writer who lived in his hometown for years, working hard for honor and dignity, never known fun or pleasure or passion before he sets out abroad, and sort of stalks a beautiful youth. In Mann’s story, Aschenbach is raptured by the beauty of  a younger boy to signify the loss of innocence and desire for youth; in my work, it’s not just about innocence and youth but also the vitality and passion of life that has been missing in the protagonist’s life. The girl is like Daisy in Daisy Miller, being a liberal American girl in Europe whose behavior is judged by those abroad, also like the jazz pianist in Kerouac’s On the Road who epitomizes IT when she plays the violin with much fervor and intensity, as well as Sumire in Sputnik Sweeterheart, who wants to be a writer and vanishes into the other world while trying to gain experience for writing material. Daisy being “on holiday,” fulfilling tourist duties is an allusion to The Comfort of Strangers, and the camera is a hint at its theme of voyeurism. The outdoors scene in nature is reference to Hemingway as the protagonist is rejuvenated and finds comfort in nature, as well as reference to Murakami, Kerouac, and Bowles; that the countryside is in the southern part of Italy is not just a passing detail as well. The fact that the narrator is writing about Daisy with so much attention and love is parallel to how K writes about Sumire.
 
Q: What were your intentions in writing this story?
A: My intention was to create a story of ideas that is full of, even convoluted with, literary allusions. This novel was purely written for myself; it was sort of a personal challenge and a fun project to bring as many of my favorite travel fictions together. There were so many other things I wanted to include but could not, such as the whole language barrier, encountering with locals and being deceived by them, or dealing with trauma, to name just a couple.
 
Q: As a reader, I could find quite a similarities between you and the narrator, both being established, international best-seller. Did you choose first-person narrative because it has an autobiographical element?
A: I can see how some readers might want to see it as it being my personal anecdote. However, it is purely fictional. I did write this story as I was travelling on my own in Europe, however. I suppose there is a similarity between me and the main character, in that both of us are writers, but other than that it’s all work of art.
 
Q: What were you thinking about when writing the story? What motivated or inspired you for such an original story?
A: While I was in Europe for about half-a-year or so, I read a number of my favorite travel fictions and the idea came to me—that it’d be quite a project to produce a story in which all these different ideas are mashed into one novel and create a conversation of different travel themes ahd philosophical ideas…
 
Q: What do you hope the reader gets away with?
A: I hope the reader enjoys the book, first of all. I don’t particularly have a “syllabus,” if you will, that I wanted all the readers to get. It was just an interesting project of ideas and it would be a great honor on my part if many people enjoyed it. Ho-ho-ho.