The Secret of Pandora`s Box

Pandora`s Box (1951)

René Magritte 

(Belgian, 1898-1967)
   

I`m a member of the Belgian royal family, busy with all kinds of parties and decent manners. My father is the cousin of Leopold Ⅲ, the King of Belgium. Five years ago, the Second World War broke out; and a year after that, the king signed and surrendered to Fascist Germany. To take refuge, my family went to London with the Belgium government in exile. As a result, I was cut off from all contact with my beloved one…
   

It`s early in the morning. Set against the flamboyant red sky, the urban landscape of Brussels looks rather quiet and peaceful. Actually, this city has just experienced a decadency of society after WWⅡ. I can still remember the days when people walked vigorously on the road, embracing the brightness of a new day. But now, no one is on the road except me.
   

I`m on the way to my old flame`s house, if that is still her house, or if she is still alive. I have worn my favorite bowler hat, which was made by her as a gift for Valentine`s Day. This is the only thing I have about her. After a six-year departure, her small face and plump figure still haunts in my mind. She was as beautiful and elegant as a white rose, always innocent and pure, always with enthusiasm to her life. I want to see her again. However, my cowardice, my selfishness, and my guilt, make me hesitate to go forward.
   

I made her acquaintance during a spring royal outing and was completely fascinated by her beauty at the first sight of her. She was singing and dancing on the bridge in order to get some money for living from the pedestrians. After that, I went to the bridge every day, sitting there, watching her dancing. Day by day, we began to know each other and began to talk about music, literature, and life. I loved her glinting blue eyes and thick cherry lips when she was smiling. She had been educated in a big family, but experienced misfortune after her parents` divorce. I didn`t tell her that I was from royal family and I deceived her a bright future with my beautiful falsehood. I know I`m not allowed to marry a girl from a lower class family, and I dare not break the rules of my family.
   

One day, the war broke out, and I left for London with my family. I did not even say goodbye to her before I left. During the years when I was in London, I experienced a really tough time. Burdened with the guilt of my betrayal to her, hardly could I start my new life. All the parties I participated and the decent manners I presented to this world, seemed just like a cage locking me in. There were thousands of nights when I got up and washed my face with tears. I deserve a punishment, even though that is not enough for my unforgivable sin. 
   
I don`t know where she is now. Maybe she has gotten married; or maybe she died in the war. I wear my bowler hat, faced with the urban landscape of Brussels, imagine she is standing beside me like a white rose. 
   
I wish, there still exists a hope for my repentance. And she is all of my hope.