一

希從東半球飛返，我去接機，失之交臂。趕到家，計程車正停在門口。行李反倒比走時候重了，原來是帶回食物兩箱。

親愛的T：

食物滋味如回憶的血肉，就像時間影像是記憶的筋骨，不斷反復描摹某些悅人的體驗，勾起一大串過去種種。

英倫的印度菜真是無可匹敵的美味，可我那吃遍天下的澳洲朋友說布里斯班的遠東風味才是空前絕後。大概他犯了思鄉病吧。

Oregano 也是萬能的香料之一。每回阿希的爸爸來訪，都帶一大把曬干的 Oregano 枝葉。這東西在西西里沒人種的，路邊野地裡隨處拔的才最好。南加州的百貨店也有賣，可是沒味道。陶爐烤的麵包片兒烤到邦邦脆，放上一塊紅番茄，撒一小把 Oregano，幾星鹽，淋上新榨的橄欖油——我能變成饕餮漢。

頭一回吃到兩天前才榨好的橄欖油，之奇香我驚為天物。其實說橄欖油，莫如說橄欖汁，那顔色還是濁的。他說，再放幾天經過沉淀，油色要清澈得多，可那時味道就不同了。掃盡盤中餐，我還貪婪的用手指沾食剩下的油跡。Fare la scarpetta! 南加州的義大利餐廳，好像中餐館必備醬油瓶一樣，桌上必擺醋瓶、橄欖油瓶，餐前上的麵包片常見人放在碟裡淋上橄欖油吃，我試過一次，只覺得膩而無味。希嘲笑說，不是所有橄欖油都可以這麼用來淋的。米國人民又斷章取義了。

二

父母與老友同游雲南而歸。在週末例行的電話中問及，母親的語氣很失落。原來旅途中友人的情緒跌蕩不定，對路線食宿與風土人物時有不滿，母親疲于補救，終仍落得個冷淡而草率的收場。我從側勸解：這一雙友人年事已高，對跋涉難免力不從心，口味不調、休息不好，自然難掩沮喪……他們或許已過了熱愛新鮮與歷險的年紀，不適合如此奔波，抑或許，此番最後一次中國之旅，期許的是印證懷念中『溫婉而清貧簡樸的東方』，卻處處失望……二十多年的朋友了，數年不見，雙方均對重逢寄望頗多，最終卻在彬彬有禮中飲憾而歸，大概彼此都有創傷……人老了，有時變得就像任性的小孩……一定不能心存芥蒂，一定要保持書信……

其實，我還想說，互相經歷過對方的臭脾氣的朋友，才最貼心。友誼不僅是在尋常心下如何禮敬有加，更是在齟齬時怎生化解。就像居住一個城市，總是要經歷過四季晴雨之後才心生歸屬。不過，這種話又何須我講？

Robert Walser 一九二〇年寫道：

I imagine China to be a country of love and peace, where the laws are as soft as the breeze that wafts across regions where gracious behavior is everything. Cities and countrysides are like songs being sung by poets, and heaven is closer to earth than anywhere else. Why do I picture it so?

… … 

A Chinese woman looks alike a flowering plant. To think of China in springtime makes one happy. The language is like a delicious drink; to speak it is bliss, the words are sweet as kisses.

… … 

On the mountains stand temples which are consecrated to the gods. Innumerable lamps shimmer at night. Behind the house there is a garden where birds twitter in the moonlight or in the sunshine.

The human traffic is like an ocean. All people have only good intentions. Evils and sorrows have long been overcome.

那只是一個想像的中國……

Thank you for bearing with me and my silly mumblings.

It’s been like one of those moments you ask yourself a question abruptly, only seconds later to find it rather foolish. I never believed my images have the power I want them to have, if they have anything at all. The sense of things is so often unclear when you are overwhelmed by their trivialities.

Now I see it’s the same meaningfulness and meaninglessness as in the strange everyday itself. What I want to show in my images is most likely not what they actually show, nor is it what you see.

But there’s no need to stop.

You live wherever you live.
You do whatever work you do.
You talk however you talk.
You eat whatever you eat.
You wear whatever clothes you wear.
You look at whatever images you see.

YOU’RE LIVING HOWEVER YOU CAN.
YOU ARE WHOEVER YOU ARE.

“Identity”…
of a person,
of a thing,
of a place.

“Identity”…
the word itself gives me shivers
It rings of calm, comfort, contentedness.
What is it, identity?
To know where you belong?
To know your self worth?
To know who you are?
How do you recognize identity?
We are creating an image of ourselves.
We are attempting to resemble this image…
Is that what we call identity?
The accord
between the images we have created
of ourselves
and … ourselves?
Just who is that, “ourselves”?

We live in the cities.
The cities live in us…
time passes.
We move from one city to another,
from one country to another.
We change languages.
We change habits.
We change opinions.
We change clothes.
We change everything.
Everything changes. And fast.
Images above all,
have changed faster and faster.
And they have been multiplying at a hellish rate, ever since
the explosion that unleashed the electronic images,
the very images that I’m now replacing photography.

We have learned to trust the photographic image.
Can we trust the electronic image?
With painting everything was simple.
The original was the original,
and each copy was a copy - a forgery.
With photography
and then film
that began to get complicated.
The original was a negative.
Without a print, it did not exist.
Just the opposite,
each copy was the original.
But now with the electronic,
and soon the digital,
there is no more negative and no more positive.
The very notion of the original is obsolete.
Everything is a copy.
All distinctions have become arbitrary.

No wonder the idea of identity
finds itself in such a feeble state.

Identity is out of fashion.

- Wim Wenders, Notebook on Cities and Clothes

『希望我們都變成老人時, 還會互相說心事。』

…

I love cats. I used to dislike them before I ever had one, because of their reputation of being proud and not very intimate with people. At the time I thought I liked dogs much better, since they look so humble and loyal.

But cats are cool. They don’t bug you so much as dogs do. They often seem to enjoy themselves quietly, as if unobserved. Dogs are kind of annoying. Of course they are much more affectionate, but consequently they demand much more attentions.

I once had to babysit a friend’s beautiful Siberian Husky for a week. She was extremely sentimental. The slightest hint of being left alone would provoke her into uncontrollable howling, a sound so miserable as if someone’s sobbing.

Turning away from dogs to cats makes me think perhaps this marks different stages of one’s life. When you are young you just want to love and be loved — kind of like a dog — you want to have as much love as it can drown you. But as you get older, the so-called “true love” becomes somewhat an unnecessary accessory (not that I deny its meaningfulness or existence) — but all you want now is to live your own happy life and not to be bothered, like a cat.

…

很久沒有出遠門，當惦記著旅途中的你，我自己也忍不住想飛。可你的字句喚醒我對跋涉中苦痛的回憶。一個人在漫長的旅途，有許多快意的時刻，可也有幾乎等量的困頓。只是在回歸安居後反思兼後視的蒙太奇裡，才發現只有美景、奇遇和歡愉難相忘記，如架構記憶的血肉筋骨，而那些在異域他鄉頹靡的鏡頭，往往已丟棄。

生活的夥伴，路遇的知己，途末路歧，便是雨歇雲收、各自歸時。人生天地，忽然而已。畢竟最終，我們都只是孤獨的行者。

數日前，我摘得頭上第一棵白髮。反觀此刻，人生似已有日趨穩固的基礎和路途。可是那個時時想掙脫、想索性將當下的一切、此前的種種盡數拋飛的願望仍舊總在縈懷。

未來的方位，無論在哪里、如哪般，我們，都將是對方的默許和鼓勵。

A happy one ─

Your herb is still sitting in the fridge. It’s so precious and I’m so waiting for the right moment to dive into the joy that it just never happens. But I managed to come to ecstasy with this new petty discovery, which is also from the grassland.

Urna Chahar-Tugchi: Ordosiin hawur (Jamar)

Françoiz Breut: Km 83 (Une Saison Volee)

A song I came across a few days ago.
And have been playing it nonstop ever since.
It slowly put me in a trance.
Creeps beneath the crawling skin.
It made me want to start drawing again, and to abandon everything but.
You may like it.

這幾天在想，我看電影，is sort of in search of a soul — in search of that of my own, and of an understanding of the humanity of humans, in which case, is that of the others’. But sometimes it gives you a spark, and that spark may push you to think and to remember, and may enhance your senses without distorting your perceptions.

權當胡説吧。