统计信息

• i was born in indonesia. ...

  更多

  i was born in indonesia.
  in 1989, my parents brought me to canada.
  
  
  soyez amoureuses, vous serez heureuse.
  d'où venons-nous? qui sommes-nous? où allons-nous?
  
  
  
  
  I stopped and turned to look behind me. The slope twisted palely down toward the town like the tracks of some gigantic insect. I looked up at the sky then, under the moonlight, and glanced at my palm. With a rush of understanding I knew this wasn’t my hand anymore. I can’t explain it. But at a glance I knew. My hand was no longer my hand, my legs no longer my legs.
  
  Bathed in the pallid moonlight, my body, like some plaster puppet, had lost all living warmth. As if a voodoo magician had put a spell on me, blowing my transient life into this lump of clay. The spark of life had vanished. My real life had fallen asleep somewhere, and a faceless someone was stuffing it in a suitcase, about to leave.
  
  An awful chill swept through me and I felt choked. Someone had rearranged my cells, untied the threads that held my mind together. I couldn’t think straight. All I was able to do was retreat as fast as I could to my usual place of refuge. I took a huge breath, sinking in the sea of consciousness to the very bottom. Pushing aside the heavy water I plunged down quickly and grabbed a huge rock there with both arms. The water crushed my eardrums. I squeezed my eyes tightly closed, held my breath, resisting. Once I made up my mind, it wasn’t that difficult. I grew used to it all – the water pressure, the lack of air, the freezing darkness, the signals the chaos emitted. It was something I’d mastered again and again as a child.
  
  Time reversed itself, looped back, collapsed, reordered itself. The worlds stretched out endlessly – and yet was defined and limited. Sharp images – just the images alone—passed down dark corridors, like jellyfish, like souls adrift. But I steeled myself not to look at them. If I acknowledged them, even a little they would envelop themselves in meaning. Meaning was fixed to the temporal, and the temporal was trying to force me to rise to the surface. I shut my mind tight to it all, waiting for the procession to pass.
  
  How long I remained that way, I don’t know. When I bobbed to the surface, opened my eyes, and took a silent breath, the music had already stopped. The enigmatic performance was finished. I listened carefully. I couldn’t hear a thing. Absolutely nothing. No music, no people’s voices, no rustle of the wind.
  
  -excerpt, Sputnik Sweetheart, Haruki Murakami
  
  
  
  *

  更多

• 職業:  畫家 , 作家 , 動物訓練師
• 性別: 男
• 查看: 128,527

用戶菜單

• 成為粉絲
• 推廣該藝術家
• Book this artist
• 給我留言

RSS訂閱

我的粉絲

吳迪	陳珊
Paris Wang	Man-Tsun
閻小樂	Ben Qwek

• 全部查看 (184) >

我是粉絲

謝裕鈴	Justo Cascante III
Jasper Wong	木村乃
楊淇	唐 寧

• 全部查看 (28) >

我的好友圈

Dominique Fung	Pauline C
Stevie DV	Jayson Li
Joysuke Wong	Daniel Lim

• 全部查看 (22) >

聊天板