Writing

At night, in a foreign place, there were many moths around the lights.
They flapped their wings, some big, some small.
One of them was especially big, and it kept following me.
It landed on my hand, its wings glimmering a faint blue-green.
After a burst of rainbow light, it had somehow connected to the internet. It was as if a moth-shaped screen had been set up on the back of my hand, and an old film was playing on its wings.

I let it fly elsewhere, wanting to see whether the other moths could also become tiny screens.
A foreign woman let a small moth walk from her hand onto mine.
It was an especially beautiful little moth, about half the size of the first one. Its wings were champagne gold, set with sapphires and emeralds.
But the big moth kept flying towards me again and again.
Later, it seemed to sense that I didn’t want to hold out my hand, so it simply flung itself at my face.
I quickly raised my coat to cover my face.
But what worried me was whether it would be hurt.

When I lowered the coat, the moth was gone.
On the coat I found some coloured fragments, each the size of a fingernail, like tiny peacock feathers.

夜晚的異鄉，燈光下有許多飛蛾。

牠們拍著翅膀，有大有小。

其中有隻特別大的，一直跟著我。

牠停在我的手上，翅膀閃著藍綠色的微光。

一陣虹光後，牠不知如何竟連接了網路。我的手背上像架起了一扇蛾形螢幕，翅膀上正播放著一部老電影。

我讓牠飛去別的地方，想看看其他飛蛾是不是也能變成小小的螢幕。

有位外國女士讓她手上的小蛾走到我手背上。

那是隻特別漂亮的小蛾，大約只有之前那隻的一半大。翅膀是鑲著藍寶石與祖母綠的香檳金色。

但是，大蛾仍然一再朝我的方向飛來。

後來，牠似乎察覺我不願伸出手，便索性朝我的臉撲來。

我連忙舉起外套遮住臉。

但心裡擔心的是牠會不會受傷。

當我放下外套時，蛾消失了。

我在外套上發現一些指甲蓋大小的彩色碎片，像是迷你的孔雀翎毛。

I couldn’t find the classroom for my class.

The buildings of the school all seemed vaguely familiar, but it was like a maze. The way I thought was right didn’t lead to where I was going.
The staircases weren’t really staircases.
Some, I realised halfway up, were only half a staircase, the other half disappearing into the air. Some were upside down.
Some classrooms had no stairs, only an opening, and you had to rock-climb to get in.

Finally I found the students waiting for me.
They were already restless.
I asked them whether it was mid-term week. I could see the other classes with their heads down over exam papers, or queuing up for their exams.
They said yes, then fell silent, looking very much on their guard.

Someone asked:
‘Teacher, are you going to give us an exam?’
‘No, my art class doesn’t have exams.’
They became restless again.
After that, whatever anyone said to me, and whatever I answered, was drowned out by the noise.

Then a lion walked slowly in through the front door of the classroom and straight out through the back.
It didn’t raise its eyes to look at anything, and it didn’t hesitate in the slightest.
None of us existed.
This classroom was only a corner of its cage.

The whole school was a zoo.

我找不到我要上課的教室。

整個學校的建築似曾相識，但像迷宮一樣。我以為的路，並不通往我要去的地方。

樓梯也並非真的樓梯。

有一些走到一半才發現，它們只有一半，另一半消失在空氣中。有一些則是反的。

有的教室沒有樓梯，只有一個洞口，必須用攀岩的方式進去。

我終於找到正在等待我的學生。

他們已經躁動起來。

我問他們，現在是不是期中考週。我看見其他班都在埋頭寫考卷，或者排隊準備考試。

他們說是，隨後安靜下來，顯得非常防備。

有人問：

「老師，你要考試嗎？」

「不，我的美術課不考試。」

他們又躁動起來。

接下來無論有人跟我說什麼，或我回答了什麼，都淹沒在吵鬧聲中。

這時，一隻獅子從教室前門緩緩走進來，又徑直從後門走出去。

牠沒有抬眼望任何東西，也沒有絲毫猶豫。

我們都不存在。

這個教室只是牠獸籠的一個角落。

整所學校是一座動物園。

It was a world of mermaids, elves, unicorns and fairy horses.
I stood in the water and sent out a call from my mind.
It wasn’t a call to anything in particular, but more a kind of awareness, open to connection.
A long-tailed creature swam quickly towards me.
It was pale blue, and the parts that looked like hair or fins shimmered with rainbow colours. Its body was long. It wasn’t like a mermaid, but more like something enormous.
As it came closer, I felt a neutral friendliness and curiosity coming from it.
I knew we couldn’t possibly hurt each other.
I met other creatures too.
In that world, communication was not through language, but through sending out an invitation from the mind.

I asked the siren:
How do the other creatures choose which humans they are willing to approach?
The siren told me:
Usually they approach minds with no preconceptions.

They tend to come close to humans who are blank.

那是一個有美人魚、精靈、獨角獸與仙馬的世界。

我站在水裡，發送心靈呼喚。

其實也不是對特定的什麼呼喚，更像是一種敞開連結的意識。

一個長尾巴的生物很快地向我游來。

牠是淺藍色的，像是頭髮或鰭的部分閃著彩虹色的光澤。身軀很長，不像人魚，更像巨大的生物。

當牠向我靠近時，我感受到牠帶著中性的友善與好奇。

我知道我們不可能彼此傷害。

我也遇到了其他生物。

在那個世界，溝通的方式不是語言，而是發出心靈邀請。

我問賽壬：

其他生物是怎麼選擇牠們願意靠近的人類？

賽壬告訴我：

通常牠們靠近的是沒有預設的心靈。

牠們傾向接近那些空白的人類。

I was walking along a crowded tourist street in a foreign place.
There were shops on both sides. In the middle, workers were digging up the road, and another worker kept poking their head out of the hole while working.
In the distance, a man holding a picture was tugging at almost everyone he brushed past, shouting at them.
Nobody panicked.
Everyone carried on as if nothing was happening, and went on their way.

He came nearer and nearer, and finally I could hear what he kept shouting:
‘You’ve seen it, so you’re going to die.’
I stared at him, but he didn’t show me the picture.
I thought, so I won’t die.
So I walked off in another direction.
I didn’t know where I was going. I just walked, thinking this, and looking back at the man as he got further and further away.
He was still repeating the same words, and nobody paid any attention.
What could possibly make so many people die together in the street?

Suddenly I heard the road workers shout:
‘It’s going to explode!’
‘So it’s a gas explosion?’
The moment I thought this, I woke up.
So I didn’t die on that street.
Because I woke up.

The people on the street who had been warned of their deaths were residents of that world.
The others and I were only visitors to it.

走在異鄉擁擠的觀光大街上。

兩旁是店家。中央有工人正在挖馬路，另一個工人從洞口探頭探腦工作著。

遠遠地，一個人拿著一張圖，拉著幾乎每個與他擦身而過的人大聲吼叫。

沒有人因此驚慌。

所有人都若無其事，繼續朝各自的方向走去。

他越來越近，我終於聽見他重複喊著：

「你看見了，你就要死了。」

我盯著他，但他並沒有向我展示那張圖。

我心想，所以我不會死。

於是往另一個方向走去。

我不知道自己要去哪，只是一邊這樣想著，一邊回頭看著逐漸遠去的那人。

他仍然重複著那句話，沒有人理會。

有什麼可能，讓這麼多人在街道上一起死亡呢？

突然，我聽見挖馬路的工人大喊：

「要爆炸了！」

「原來是氣爆嗎？」

正當我這樣想的瞬間，我醒了。

所以，我沒有在那條街道死亡。

因為我醒來了。

街道上收到死亡預告的人們，是那個世界的住戶。

我與其他人，只是那個世界的遊客。

The typhoon’s floodwater submerged the city of Taipei.

Overnight, giant kelp more than ten metres tall grew from the asphalt. Pink coral climbed the glass curtain wall of Taipei 101, and sharks hid in a row of abandoned apartment blocks. Tropical fish, sea snakes, even stingrays swam all the way from Songshan Airport out of the city.
I lay at the window and watched a sour-faced sea turtle go past.
Next came a group of jellyfish... oh, no, those were plastic bags. The city’s colourful flotsam.

The flood slowly receded. It was 6.20 in the evening.
The moment the streetlights came on, I returned to that world.
The typhoon had just passed, and the sky was still bright, but the city had already begun to glow. Taipei gazed from the opposite bank. Children played in a car park with standing water, and the smell of cooking rice came and went faintly in the air.

I returned to that city, that neighbourhood, that building, that small room where I was alone.
On the way out of the studio, wandering aimlessly through the riverside park, on the way to buy groceries at the supermarket, or taking a ride to meet someone.
On my own.

My heart beat faster, and the ends of my hair trembled against my face. A tickle that made me smile.
It was the wind of freedom.

The wind of freedom came and went.

颱風的大水淹沒了臺北城。

一夕之間，柏油路長出十幾公尺高的巨型海帶。粉紅珊瑚攀上101的玻璃帷幕，鯊魚躲進連排的廢棄公寓。熱帶魚呀，海蛇呀，甚至魟魚，從松山機場一直游到城外。

我趴在窗前，看一隻臭臉的海龜路過。

接下來是一群水母......噢不，那是塑膠袋。五彩繽紛的都市漂流物。

洪水慢慢退去。時間是傍晚6點20分。

街燈亮起來的瞬間，我回到那個世界。

颱風剛過，天空還亮著，城市卻已經開始發光。臺北城從對岸凝望著。小孩在積水的停車場嬉鬧，空氣裡若隱若現的炊飯氣息。

我回到那個城市，回到那個街區，回到那棟房子，回到那個獨自一人的小房間。

在離開工作室的路上，漫無目的地走在河濱公園，在超市採買的途中，或搭車赴約。

自己一個人。

我的心跳加速，髮梢在臉龐顫慄。令人微笑的搔癢。

那是自由的風。

自由的風來了又走了。