希望
我挡住一半太阳
你就见到了月亮
这一般被称之为希望
流浪者
在不期而遇的大地上彷徨
有人流芳
有人流亡
有人走了样
有人身披明月光
Dreamtime (节选)
London was a city of haze and maze. All my memory had dissolved into the fumes and foams of the past, and since then being eroded into ashes that once formed the city. I was born in the era before rationality and freedom were incubated, which forced me to wander about the possible darkness of the future. If anyone ever read this, do receive my humble salute.
1. The illusory hopeI was born in 1st January 1900, a birthday every parent would like their children to have. But even I went deep into my past, I had no collection of memory for any happiness I have brought to this family. My honest mother had told me that it was due to her majesty’s death — Queen Victoria had passed away in January the next year. Despite her explanation, I couldn’t help with severe guilty that had germinated since then. My parents deliberated to reinforce the idea that my family was no prominent since I was a baby, despite that
my servants and themselves were unconvinced. I partially agreed, that although my father was indeed not counted as an eligible human being, my mother was undoubtedly a great woman. From the time when I was incapable of reading or writing to I would become a student at Oxford, as a suffragette she was always keen on her marvelous career. I could still recall the incense of Christabel Pankhurst’s house, where my mother visited regularly and chatted about “improper issues” for women.
I could see a trend of hope and peace through my childhood. For me that was a period of time decorated by sweet dreams, and which would extend beyond infinity. My home was near Westminster Abbey, and there was a path leading to my house where marguerites and roses grew under the nursing of mother nature. Inside there was a room for me, with a view of the garden mingling into the azure green sky.
When I was four, Britain and France signed the Entente Cordiale, ending centuries of sporadic conflict and paving the way to the future co-operation. For me, that was also a great news since I could attend one less French lesson each week. Mr. Black was also happy to be absent every Wednesday from then on, leaving only Monday and Friday’s time with me, a possible candidate of his most naughty student. I couldn’t bear to stay with him in the study over twelve seconds, and that was enough time for us to say hello and bye.
When I entered school in 1907, the Anglo-Russian Entente was formed. This had little influence on me since I was not taking Russian lessons anyway, and nobody around me in London ever cared about Russia. I bet they were wrong now, as Russia was a significant country for anyone
who could read a map.
In 1908, the Olympics was held in London. My father was an important investor in this, so my family went there to watch games that I didn’t even understand rules. I saw fireworks at the bank of the Thames, and my father tried to lecture me his very own philosophy of life. It was from this point that I started to despise him, especially when he talked about the superiority of our race.
According to my observation, he viewed anyone not him as inferior. He treated women as products, labeled according to their appearance and pedigree; workers as temporary slaves, who should work with gratitude for the salary, a drop in the bucket for their bitterness of reality.
He never called my name, but “Mr. Anderson”, as I should be proud of my family name, which I never did. It was two years after when I met my “best friend”, Allen. The term “best friend” was always misused, both by adults and by children, hence I did doubt the accuracy. But it was certain that he was my closest friend, and it was with him that my thought with sparked with flame of hope inside the small Garden of Eden that we have built together.
I was not aware at that age that it was the end of all the good time for my entire life. When we two were sitting on the top of the abandoned manor during field trips and snooping the secrets of the Milky Way, we used to talk about hope, dream and future.
2. The slaves of the past
The past was never dead, it was not even past. Ten years after the Treaty of Versailles was signed I could still recall the that notorious sound of defense alarm, which woke me up at noon and night, and which now became a reluctant scar of my generation and beyond. Even before this nightmare, my family was under the shadow of my father’s death in 1912.
In that year, the White Liner Titanic sank on her voyage from Southampton to New York. My father died on that cursed trip for a reason I felt embarrassed to tell: by a gun shot. A man certainly got the chance to escape the first-classed room — unless he tried to board on children’s lifeboat in last minute, as time was wasted when he was packing cash. His body remained unfound, possibly peacefully approaching the seabed of Northern Atlantic together with vulnerable cash. This story was told by a survivor, a girl from New York, who saw Mr. C. R.
Anderson shot by a furious teenage boy. And thanks to God, that boy was not sentenced, since later people found he was a Rockefeller.
Following my family discipline, I dressed in black for two years. In the next year, my mother’s dearest friend of all, Emily Davidson, another famous suffragette, was killed. I dressed in black for another year. There was no chance of changing back, as this year was 1915, the beginning of the World War. The origin of the war was more than five thousand miles away in distant countries
目 录
第一辑 万象
第一章 星月夜 The Starry Night
船长
希望
黎明
阿波罗
流浪者
梦
2021 太空漫游
涅槃
征途
第二章 自画像 Self-portraits
归心
旧物
本心
庸人
复苏
某一个瞬间
小学的故事
普通人的赞歌
第三章 麦田里的乌鸦 Wheat Field with Crows
信仰
酷刑
一个虔诚者的忏悔
城市
盘古
剧中人
女人
黄金时代
寂静的春天
渐变
孤梦
The Farewell 再会
中华词牌
笑话
朝圣
第二辑 文明的星辰
新年感言
文明的星辰
克莱因蓝
以太
Dreamtime
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