[...] I am suddenly surrounded by an expanse of passions and think that the human search for love must originally have been like this. So-called civilization in later ages separated sexual impulse from love and created the concepts of status, wealth, religion, ethics and cultural responsibility. Such is the stupidity of human beings.

Night grows palpably thick, the sound of the drums ceases, and the black surface of the river is dotted with the lights of the boats. I suddenly hear someone call out in Chinese, "older brother", and the voice seems to be right near me. I turn and see four or five girls on the slope all singing to me. One again calls out in a clear voice "older brother". At this point, I realize this is probably all the Chinese she knows but it would be enough to seek love. I see her expectant eyes in the darkness, unblinking and fixed on me. My heart starts pounding and I seem to return to the long-lost trembling of my passionate youth. I am drawn to her, perhaps affect by the actions of the young men here, perhaps because of the darkness. I see her lips moving slightly although she doesn't speak again and just waits, and the singing of her companions grows soft. She is still a child, her face hasn't lost that childish look – the high forehead, upturned nose, small mouth. If I give the slightest sign I know she will come away with me, snuggle up and, all excited, put up her parasol. But this tension is unbearable. I quickly smile, no doubt very awkwardly, resolutely shake my head, then turn and walk away, not daring to look back.

I never encountered this style of love. It's what I dream about but when it actually happens I can't cope.

—Gao Xingjian, Soul Mountain, pp. 228-9.