Category: 中文

  • Slouching toward Wherever the Sun Shines

    Slouching toward Wherever the Sun Shines

    ‘Sunshine cleaning’, a movie I watched years ago, presented stories about different women who divorced and tried to restore their savaged lives back to normal with positive thinking and challenge taking traits, and its characters’ willingness to endure and change. For most of us, life may be seen as living with challenges that need to be overcome, and we manage and get through. At that point, every person may be seen as a sort of hero.

    the weather, in the Northern Hemisphere is getting much warmer and the sun much brighter and shiner, so shine I feel enlightened, physically. Do you love summer time? Answers may vary but I thought, most people may not dislike sunny days. Sunshine is bright, clean, and loving, and also evokes positive feelings. Looking on the windowsill in my room, full of potted greenies and flowers, which are blossoming progressively like burning kindles. Glistening lights are basking in my room, making it finer and softer. I feel happier staying in sunlit room maybe because that gives people a warmer imagination for our future lives, and strength to overcome the hardships we face.

    I’ve always remembered that summer my father took me a tour outside of a elementary school when I was six-year old. His belly bulged and he wore a dark-red T-shirt. Leading the way to that school, on the trail outside the school fence, he turned his face back, facing me, slightly smiled and raised his forearm pointing towards the front-door of the school, saying that he prepared to let me study at that school. I felt his pride while he talking, saw swarms of pupils playing on the playground, crazily, enchantingly. That was summer; the small path we walked outside the school was surrounded by walls of burning ivies and greens. That was an afternoon, the most clear and exhausting one in my memory. “Dad.” I remembered saying and he answered slowly, softly and gently. “That’s a good school.” He said.

    After a fierce argument between my parents, my mother had temporarily taken me back to her hometown that year so I didn’t go to that school. Every September when the school year began, I remembered that walk with my father, his gentle tone with his will to enroll me to that school. I didn’t forget though he had never mention that again. But I know as long as summer continues to come I won’t forget that summer when he walked with me beside that school, with water-clean light.

    After graduating from university, I had tenanted with one of my schoolmates, in an apartment near a lake in Guanggu, a newly constructed borough in the city of Wuhan. While in university, roommates were eager to find jobs to earn money. “Whatever the job is, I will do; and where there is a job, there is hope.” A roommate joked saying. But if one said he or she doesn’t want to find some work to do then, that won’t be true. They need money to go to restaurants, to buy extra outfits to increase their attractiveness and to show their power. Most of the students I encountered then wanted to work, to improve their living standards.

    So hurry was I to find a work to do then that I was lost. I had met a friend, Bee who in his middle thirties, was working as freelance. In his age with an unstable working position, life was fragile and depending on luck. Though getting days by, he loved outings in mountainsides and thus invited me to go outside biking.

    We decided to go to Jiangxia, a mountainous suburb in Wuhan, to have our afternoons pasted. We bought transit tickets and rented bikes to go into the forest in the mountain. There were trees and the sun shining sharply, making us sweating like mad. But he loved biking and often turned his face back to me encouraging me to compete with him on the mountain path on which we biked. There were raspberry bushes, whose twigs were full of thrones. Though unwashed, he picked those berries and ate happily, smiling to me. That was summer; there was sunlight. I knew life could be hard. He struggled to find a well-payed job to get him being able to stay in Wuhan. He said he had never thought about buying house in Wuhan, so expensive that he said he would never bother considering. “Do you know where can a person find a well payed job?” He had asked me. Struggling to make my ends meet, I said I didn’t know either. While sitting on the bench in the neighborhood where then I resided, I saw his face darkened, though that was a bright afternoon and the sun was near setting.

    He said he always loved days we spent on biking together in Jiangxia’s mountainside because he felt he was alive by our energetic defiance towards money. Though we were both not living high-standardly, we felt happy and that was summer.

    There is the light and it has come into my room.

  • As Happiness Is the Romanticization of Ephemerality

    As Happiness Is the Romanticization of Ephemerality

    It was afternoon I walked and cycled on the lanes around East Lake. ‘Green lanes’ square-shaped signs showed. Trees and greens were everywhere as well as people cycling around the lake.

    Breezing around the lanes, I saw happy faces as well as saddened, serious ones.

    I wasn’t alone; I was with my friend.

    There was a teen-age girl standing before the rock-made railing gazing at the surface of the lake, apparently saddened by her personal affairs. There was an unspeakable strength of saying nothing at all around her that could be seen by all passing her by. Had not life silenced people’s ability to express their feelings, they might still be willing to dream.Consciously saying nothing when one was obviously overwhelmed by something is a learned behavior. Learned helplessness, they, psychologists, called. Who had taught them that skill of not expressing their feelings? Mom usually says nothing while her eyes are apparently filled with untold uneasiness as though she have gone through a lot. Idling around the room then sitting on the armchair, mostly she was simply sitting, motionless, silent.

    “Find something enjoyable to do, that may do you good.”

    She will not listen.

    Riding bicycles going towards wherever I was aimlessly was what I thought living. “I love to see you smile.” Zon said while sitting astride a bike looking at me, smiling.

    I returned that smile and proceeded going into the deep forest in Jiangxia’s green lanes.

    “How could a place be beautiful like this.” Zon meant the serenity of the forest we are in. “So serene that it seemed like a miracle.”

    A miracle; It truly was, to me and Zon. So tender was to breeze around the trails in the forest on which we rode our cycles as free a experience as no one could ever have that I thought chancing our ability to understand very originality of living is a way to learn what is really worth having.

    While resuming to go into the forest deeper, we expect no thing though still feeling fulfilled. Happiness to me seemed to be be that easy to obtain when we just noticed that there was a loquat tree beside the lane on the hillside and picked up some produce it bore to taste then that we didn’t realize it was such precious a thing to be cherished.

    Before night people riding bicycles on a bridge over East Lake.

    The loquat fruits we picked weren’t much tasty but they were everywhere; other tourists were idling picking those too. No one had said anything; they were eating, searching there for the next source of matured loquat fruit which could be much easier picked. Some seemingly delicious produce those trees bore were on the boughs too affluent to ignore and too high to be picked, about which we feel pitied.

    So ephemeral was our trying to remember those sparkling bits in our lives in which we found our consolation when feeling hurt that we didn’t realize just that suddenly a moment we no longer knew what that very happiness was felt like.

    Cool winds before night at that time in the forest of Jiangxia flowing through us made us aware again about our very nature of originality.

    It had occurred to me that the less we expected about what we might be encountering around next corner of the mountainside, the more meaningful experience we might gain.

    On the way home, seeing our shadows first, riding on the bikes, we felt thankful that we were on the right side of the lane at the right time as profound a feeling as a person could never imagine to experience.

    And if in another portion of my heart I could still feel that part of me at that time, That smiling face of mine could still be felt there as much real as I could ever be.

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  • 在香港的夜班巴士与武汉的夜巷

    在香港的夜班巴士与武汉的夜巷

    当地球得了痛症,冬天,成了巨大的冷库

    “人生是一连串纵横捭阖的把戏,要研究,要时时刻刻的注意,一个人才能维持他优越的地位。”

    坐在香港的夜班巴士上,冬天的香港不太冷,明穿一件黑色运动服,巴士开屯门,车上的人都睡了,他望着窗外,闪过几栋公屋,路边都是山景,有许多沿街广告牌。“申请破产,即日起停止追债。”一则破产的广告,看的出神。心里一阵剧痛。

    天空好像是灰色的,天桥下的汽车,左边塞的满满的,右边却空空的。他走过天桥,准备叫车去

    灰尘弥漫的夜晚,路上都是灰暗的拖车,像往生开来的车,巨大的声响似打战一样,比打仗还慌乱,生厌,灰夜里城市也不比战争残墟,没有同情可言。

    明同贝达见面的时候,迟了些,看得出不愉快的神色,虽总会有理由来解释,但还是没出声,解释反而恶化,沉默。是什么样的人,只有自己知道,其余都不大相干。

    贝达的眉毛有些粗,眼睛表达不满,声音粗但锋利,难以想象。问到明现在工作的怎么样,声如利刃。慌张,反而忍住。随口道“还好。”

    “去吃些什么东西吧?”

    “也可以,找个人多的地方。”

    过马路时全部都是等待,路过的是装满灰尘的拖车。一辆一辆轰隆隆,没有尽头,仿佛整个城市在重生,所以需要大动干戈。似从死亡里堆出来的生命,人类文明也似沙滩上的蜃楼,幻灭如影,也没人太在意?或是因总可以再来?太阳有照射不到的角落。黑暗中,毁灭在进行中。或许最后总会有人记得,也许没人记得,后果也是暂时的,没有什么不是暂时的。无人的夜晚,只有货车在路上,明看到夜间开工的工地,好像一切都很赶,赶着完工,再赶着被毁灭?他站在路边,同初次见面的陌生人等红灯。

    不吃了吧。

    都脱口而出。

    归途,空气中都是施工灰尘,不能呼吸,黄色的夜灯,照着马路上,像沙漠,夜的沙漠,滚滚而来的黄尘,武汉有时也像沙漠,黑暗的夜,一辆又一辆的车,明感觉像提前经历了一次,也许以前梦见过。

    爱,在这寒冷黑暗的地方,没有一丝发芽的能力,许多年后想起,也不知道是不是曾真的爱过,或许人总该是孤独?

    人们期望被更深入的了解,这个世界上,谁能真正了解谁?因此总是之在,愉快或不愉快过后,看着骑车离开的那个背影,连再见也不及说,说出来又仿佛太郑重,因此手也没抬起来。曾有人对明说,记得曾爱过你。再想起,总是在虚无缥缈间,这么大了,也不至太相信这些。生命中某个匆忙的夜晚,偶尔走过这荒流的人群,也许偶尔也疑心……是不是应该再看一次?

    也许人生应该独自走,偶尔想起,也回过头来,微笑。距离隔的刚刚好,没太远也没有太近。

    旧忆

    去杭州的时候,只去了西湖,其他都寥寥。正好是周末,人潮汹涌。走上雷峰塔的时候, 我看到台阶上的电梯,不禁感叹。如同Rico看到黄鹤楼里的电梯时的感受。与时俱进?

    俯瞰西湖。与在黄鹤楼时的感受一样,又想起在香港大佛寺上看到的纪念铭,买了串佛珠,店员同我用粤语讲多谢,不会粤语,也不适合讲英文,因此一阵沉默,突然自己也像默剧演员,只用眼神表达情感。

    我也喜欢沉默不做声的微笑,就像你又从我身边走过,我也同你一起走。