FOND BUT NOT IN LOVE

时间的疾速总是让我震惊到失语. 岁月太过强大,我如今只能把它当作玩笑来应对.

上传照片的时候我当真这么觉得--11月23日,去年的这天我抱着若干抽象的期待启程回国的时候是万万没有想到08年11月23日这一天终会到来的. 确切的说我甚至没有想到2008年会真的到来. 但这些不真实的日期总是自顾自的就发生了又过去了,而我们还是四肢健全,吃喝不误.这真是个天大的玩笑.

10月的最后一天我和桔子Keith搬了家.我把墙上从金达时代就开始积累的照片剪纸字条一一剥下来又如数贴到新卧室的墙上.这时候我才自觉这不是完全出去习惯.我舍不得这些人也舍不得这些记忆.更重要的是这些快活的日子不会再发生,至少到现在还没有.

到底是哪里特别?或许是我一厢情愿的纯纯的爱意,或许是因为这种纯纯的爱意永远不能长久.无论如何,如今这种爱意比爱情更让我眷恋.

我结束了单身,同时又结束了一段长达数月的夜夜笙歌. 真是可耻,当失去了猎艳的乐趣玩乐就不再有乐趣----总之我总是能找到理由令自己纠结.

爱情比玩乐要艰难数倍. 可我总不能再躲下去. 毕竟玩乐比爱情要空虚数倍.

工作令我找到了工作狂的自己,并且开始整夜整夜的梦到工作的场景. 我很喜欢. 很多人不知道的是,我是个毫不软弱的人. 但我终于学会了软弱有时候很好用.

我不再那么轻易的信任他人; 我懂得了更直接的表达关怀和沟通; 还终于能够在数十人的目光下自若的坐着,站着,笑,讲话,并且讲话的时候让别人闭嘴. 所有的成长让我觉得充满希望,觉得一切都不会太晚,觉得我不需要向任何人交待,觉得对自己很放心.

由于我不再单身并且热爱我的工作, 我终于觉得像个成年人. 我开始很少上网, 很少听歌, 开始在沙发上看电视, 开始在办公室读报. 直到那天我终于看了柏林苍穹下. 当我听到这首诗的念白, 有几秒钟的时间觉得自己像个傻瓜, 不过就那么几秒钟而已.

Song of Childhood
By Peter Handke

When the child was a child
It walked with its arms swinging,
wanted the brook to be a river,
the river to be a torrent,
and this puddle to be the sea.

When the child was a child,
it didn’t know that it was a child,
everything was soulful,
and all souls were one.

When the child was a child,
it had no opinion about anything,
had no habits,
it often sat cross-legged,
took off running,
had a cowlick in its hair,
and made no faces when photographed.

When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Is life under the sun not just a dream?
Is what I see and hear and smell
not just an illusion of a world before the world?
Given the facts of evil and people.
does evil really exist?
How can it be that I, who I am,
didn’t exist before I came to be,
and that, someday, I, who I am,
will no longer be who I am?

When the child was a child,
It choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding,
and on steamed cauliflower,
and eats all of those now, and not just because it has to.

When the child was a child,
it awoke once in a strange bed,
and now does so again and again.
Many people, then, seemed beautiful,
and now only a few do, by sheer luck.

It had visualized a clear image of Paradise,
and now can at most guess,
could not conceive of nothingness,
and shudders today at the thought.

When the child was a child,
It played with enthusiasm,
and, now, has just as much excitement as then,
but only when it concerns its work.

When the child was a child,
It was enough for it to eat an apple, … bread,
And so it is even now.

When the child was a child,
Berries filled its hand as only berries do,
and do even now,
Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw,
and do even now,
it had, on every mountaintop,
the longing for a higher mountain yet,
and in every city,
the longing for an even greater city,
and that is still so,
It reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees
with an elation it still has today,
has a shyness in front of strangers,
and has that even now.
It awaited the first snow,
And waits that way even now.

When the child was a child,
It threw a stick like a lance against a tree,
And it quivers there still today