When I was a elementary school student in the third grade, I boarded in the school. There were only around twenty kids boarded in the school. Surprisingly, my father some times came to school after dinner, and bring me home. My story of the graphic narrative is a memory from that time. Once my father came to school and picked me up. Then he brings me to a Shanghainise comedy show. He hardly chatted with me and I didn’t know what to talk. On the 15 minutes driving from my elementary school to the theater, I see people on the street; I listen to radio; and my father talk to his colleague on the phone. During the show, I see my father laughed a lot. I was interested by the show, and I was amused, but not so exaggerated like him. I guess it’s because he has much more stress need to release. Walking out of the theater, he brought me to have some noodles. He just smokes a lot and ask me about the show. Also, we went for shows very common. He also brings me to watch films or soccer games, or even just have foods. By recalling the memory and when the images shows in my mind, now I can feel his love to me. That is the way how a father loves a son.
My elementary school was located in the most romantic and classic area in Shanghai. London plains that on the sides of the small streets cover the sky; Bicycles ring randomly; there is very few people on the street. Magically, by making a turn, few crossroads away, there is Huaihai Road, which is one of the most bustling main streets. Then one more block away, there is the Lyceum Theater. It was built in 1929. The building in this area are mainly from 1920s and 1930s, except those modern high rises. Shanghainese culture, food, dialect, and small streets, all these makes up my childhood. These are real aesthetic to me. This half-day memory contains all of these.
