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致那些被捏造的我們,其二

圖:COLN



單純的快樂很令人愉悅,但若它有個淒涼的背景,快樂的色彩便顯得混濁。如果只針對著「快樂」本身目不轉睛地投入情感並狂亂的挖掘著它,則有另一番感受。事情總是在被觀察到之前就已存在,我們的斷章取義不斷地提醒著我們:身為宇宙的一份子,你必須稍微瞭解到自己是怎樣的渺小。
但我們身而為人,用人類生命進行的速度和角度來觀察這整個宇宙,便是我們獨特的樂趣。儘管它總是沉默不語。之前偶然玩到一個遊戲《Journey》,從那之後它便深深的幫我確立了一些東西。它讓我感覺生活是一趟旅途,最後的休息來到之時便是歸鄉。而最近才發覺在自己所經歷的短暫歲月裡,最難以忘懷的是各種型式的離去。曾經熟悉或不熟悉的事物隱沒在生命的舞台後,沿著堆放了無數紀念品般雜物的幽暗後台小道,緩緩走向另一片未知。
最終留下的事物,誰的傳說會成為正史或野史呢?我倒覺得都是生命的材料。誰要撿拾誰要發想誰要再創作,不是那麼輕易就攔得住的。我們不正也各自賞玩著自己從四處蒐集來的素材,編織成自己滿意的樣貌嗎?

譬如說,編織出一個滿意的自己。

這動作其實很奇妙,當看著過去的自己時,有股情感油然而生。我們總是擁有許多時間來解釋自己,或是解釋為何選擇現在,而不是在不同的時空裡分岐的自己。所有累積起來的過去像看不完的文件堆滿房子,回過神來才發現連呼吸的空氣也已經過檢視與準備。我們無時無刻都活在前一瞬間所堆積起來的歷史上。

還沒見到未來有多遠,過去倒是厚重得不可思議。




To Us Who Are Made Up, Part One

Illustration:COLN
中文原文:致那些被捏造的我們,其一
譯:Unk


I never try to complicate any stories intentionally. However, some things are not meant to be written but to be experienced by myself.  

Everybody liked to fantasize in childhood, before reaching and comprehending “the reality” in the process of growth. This reality is too neutral to be shaken, no matter how sentimental we are. Knowing the fact that this reality is always changing with something else makes this cosmos much harder to be imagined than we expect. Therefore, via “To Us Who Are Made Up,” I attempt to acquire wilder scope to observe myself and things around me, like the film I admire so much, Interstella, which reminds us that we may not mature yet in the game of cosmos, where we are thoroughly tiny but striving.

Nobody can escape from the cosmos and history.

People may go further by learning to see the whole cosmos as a family, at every passed moment.

I recall one hypothesis in an aged sci-fi manga, which assumes human beings fall into…

To Us Who Are Made Up

中文原文:「致那些被捏造的我們」 譯:Unk


Speechless always is cosmos.

In every present firm or loose At countless intersections between dreams and reality Within the aggregation of consciousness, sweet, bitter, then rotten

People cultivate boisterously Their words are fewer gradually In learning docility They leave when the joy begins

Simultaneously we talk, with voice Twisting our bodies and showing off our tongues “Let’s record,” said we Every moment is history, infinitely Record until annihilation Which is, I understand, burning And the burnt. That kind of Truth

Describing while described Front and rear painted with colours One flock impacts on the same flock Before the one and only speechless Mother We’re on the same team Cosmos is on the same team

After comprehending the impossibility of leaving I’ve written some letters To us who are made up We may burn or preserve them after read Or authenticate, or r