妳的音樂會，妳的字詞句

容顏依舊嫵媚，酒窩嘴角卻見疲累
琴音歌聲縱然悅耳，卻不牽動心弦
構圖巧妙新奇，兩秒過後再看卻只見空白

妳，是迷惘了嗎？對甚麼疑惑了罷？

我想，屏幕上的一字一詞一句，是巷是路是橋罷？
但願能通往妳的心思。

L.O.V.E...Olivia Ong

Addicted, I admit. But ohhh I'm just so much in love with her voice...^^

Ever First Days of Bliss

'Meet you at 7:00 pm

Aqua restaurant, 1 Peking Road'

the card reads.

1 Nov 07
7 years filled with ever first days of true bliss.
Thank you.

秋晨

七時五十五分，披上(新添的 ^0^)薄圍巾便出門。

陽光沒有了春的濕漉混濁，也不覺夏日的耀眼喧囂，又未變得嚴冬暗淡無力。
陽光只有在樹影婆娑間細細碎碎灑下一路的清澈澄明。

「哪兒吃早餐？」
「太興！」忙不迭笑著回答。

這是完滿的秋晨。

戲色，玩戒

戲色之(一)：戲中色慾
兩組肉團、數堆毛髮、四片肥唇、一男的那話兒、一女的那話兒的自由組合赤裸呈現銀幕。你我他也知性是甚麼一回事，但由或閃或滯、時高時低、又鳥瞰又水平又特寫的鏡頭映進眼裡，便可讓人作三百六十度坦然隔岸觀之餘，又讓想像慾念無限四方延伸。這跟李大導把張小姐的對白客觀忠實的搬字過紙的同時，又任意延展玩弄字裡行間的空白的把戲沒兩樣。

戲色之(二)：遊戲角色
遊戲於角色間。誰在演，在演誰，都模糊了。同一張臉。是張唯。是王佳芝。是麥太太。是被遠走英國的父親遺棄的女兒。是正值青春年華的嶺大學生。是殺漢奸的美人計中的美人。是抗戰時代排隊換米的百姓。也是戲迷。她愛戲，更愛遊「戲」於她的角「色」間。

玩戒之(一)：玩味戒慎
亂世時代，戒無可避免。而<<色，戒>>中的戒特別好玩。麥太太和易先生之間猜心度腹的央然趣味既在四腿間，又在眉宇間，也在嘴唇的一吞一吐間。但這等真真假假的張力雖然並不新鮮，在<<007>>等美式特務片或<<無間度>>等港式卧底戲中從不欠奉。相比之下，更愛在牌桌上黑斗篷太太們的眉來眼去、語帶雙關。她們說過甚麼早已忘得一乾二淨，唯獨難忘這些黑斗篷之間令人忍唆不禁的含沙射影。

玩戒之(二)：玩具鑽戒
張小姐與李大導同樣笑著告訴我們：可讓男人通往女人心的途徑除了陰道，還有鑽戒。兩者同樣兒戲呢。

<<色，戒>>。好戲，但更好玩。

A New Contract

A thirty-minute chat with my liberal and enlightening boss -- compliments, advice, sharing and reflections -- ended with an offer of contract renewal.

It prescribes what I'll be doing (teaching ESL, developing courses), where I'll be (CityU, Hong Kong), what I'll be earning (point XX and point XX in the scale), who I'll be seeing eight hours a day (Gwei Los n Gwei Pors who babble their love for China and their travel experiences all day) in the coming two years.

Walls a contract puts up.
But I need the SECURITY.

Transparent and permeable luckily I know.
So I'll see BEYOND.

Lucky me. Grateful me.

我的第二人生

黄大人最近不在家的日子，我獨個兒時若不是看電影，便是一股腦兒栽進另一世界去，創造我的第二人生。

認識Second Life(SL)是在數月前，從Time讀到有關各大跨國品牌紛紛在這虛擬世界買地設立專門店、瑞典政府率先在此virtual land建立領事館、美國政府正考慮應否及如何對在此世界中賺取的收入徵稅，各人權組織對成人avatar和貌似小孩的avatar發生牲行為極度關注等的文章。「哈！不是吧？有趣有趣。」我邊讀邊說。

我對虛擬世界和avatar等概念在中學時期已略有認識，當時因為哥哥影響而玩了好一會Ultima。當時也有玩得肉緊，只為了「找對」那間獄室、那個鐵匠、那個魔法卷軸而玩到半夜給「阿媽踢竇」的時侯。但SL的層次又比Ultima此等角色扮演遊戲又高多了。兩者的分別正在於SL根本沒有「找對」和「做對」那回事，還記得我在新人島時大家對前輩的熱門提問正是：what am i supposed to do now? 在此先擱下各宗教不談，要知真實人生便從來沒有甚麼任務目的可言。 個人認為若人生真有目的，便是與人/社群建立關係，發掘、感受、體驗和建造這世界。而SL反映的正是這人人找自己有興趣、認為有意義的事做的自由空間。

SL的成功 (根據SL官方網站，居民數目已超過九百萬) 除了以上提到基本概念的創新外，亦有賴於功能和設計上的幾個特色：

1. SL賦與所有居民易學卻無窮的創造能力。小至一隻水杯、一張椅子，大至建築物和公用空間，又或是容貌、衣著、動作也是由居民所創造 (也許正因此而聚集了大群藝術家，媒體創作人、攝影愛好者尤其多，galleries和exhibitions隨處可見) 每人的創作皆有保障，創作者可自由選擇獨佔、分享、賣錢；當然只有這樣的制度才可使創作蓬勃 。

2. 多方面與真實生活接軌。SL電影院播放的是真實的荷里活電影，居民自發組織的英語文法班 (還有瑜珈班、心理學班、溝通技巧班、攝影班...種類數之不盡呢) 是用與真實課堂講義無異的Word / pdf 文件，在醫療所得到的是執業醫生的真實意見 (診症、治療未能做到，主要是意見諮詢)；還有充斥在SL的市場調查終端機，完成了問卷(均由真實市瑒研究公司設計)還可得到金錢回報(數個至數十Linden dollars[SL幣值]不等)。也有圖書館服務供應商研究在SL提供資料搜尋的可能性。至於最能表現SL和真實世界的聯系的，莫過於lindens與美元的自由兌換 (匯率還會因美元升跌浮動呢)。這些元素使SL跟真實人生的分界變得模糊，卻又使SL的虛無變得實在。

3.市場經濟系統清晰完善。從上文提到美元與Linden dollars的關係，對經濟活動在SL的重要性已可略知一二。SL的經濟活動是非常活躍的，賺錢更是SL不少居民的主要目標之一 (無論是如大部份人滿足於看見自己的在SL的財富與日俱增，或是如小部份人般當真以賺取Linden dollars來換美金作收入)。在SL提供服務(如授課、跳舞)或「打工」可為你帶來收入，創造有需求的物件也能為你賺錢。土地買賣也在SL無時無刻發生。要擁有土地須付錢，偏遠的(人流少的)價錢較低，已有完善社區配套的價錢理所當然較高。 銀行服務是如何運作我未了解，但想來也跟真實世界中存款、借錢的概念不遠罷。

4.居民有權自由組成、參與、管理社群。根據興趣、語言、所在地等而建立的社區成千上萬，單看組織的名稱也夠有趣。由慈善組織、宗教團體、教育機構、財經小組(談的是真實世界的財經消息罷？)至名人八卦會、購物團、clubbing/partying團、成人活動小組等。唯一不見蹤影的是政治組織 (沒有此類別是SL的政治考慮罷)。居民找到「對嘴」的友儕絕對不難。這些組織可選擇性地共享共創資源，為成員或公眾組織各類型活動。

是的，這個虛擬世界多資多彩，有著無限可能。「哈！不是罷？有趣有趣！」已成了我在SL的「口頭襌」。但我會成為SL addiction的下一個受害者嗎？我想不會。常作旁觀者，不喜參與的我，就是不會弄出個甚麼來。更何況，我的第一人生也不錯呢！

連結：
http://www.abc.net.au/4corners/special_eds/20070319/default_full.htm
http://secondlife.com/whatis/
http://jedi.org/blog/archives/005532.html
http://www.cnsecondlife.com/

覆：「回望」

理性的背後總是一籮籮責任和期望...成長便是這樣累人。

可悲的是我們身處的環境如此擁擠。同儕這麼隨意說一下，社會風氣這麼吹一吹，難免便在自己快給壓扁的肩頭再添重量。最終把自己壓迫到舉頭看看世界周遭也不能，更可嘆的是連近在身邊的家人至愛也給壓住了自己也懞然不知。

我們都懷念不用被催趕著成長的日子。
我們都響往不擁擠、不互相量度、不計算比較的空間。
「這樂土在哪？」
哪個哲人、哪個宗教不問？
答案遙不可及，卻又近在咫尺。

OLIVIA

自己喜歡的歐美歌手大致可分兩大陣營：甜美可人派和殿堂大師級。殿堂級暫表下不說，甜美派的代表人物則有Emilie Simon, Carla Bruni和Norah Jones。不談音樂路線迴異，若只論氣質，這些女孩也是各有千秋的。Emilie是可愛聰明但有點點邪氣愛耍壞的，Carla有帶著神經質的性感，Norah是固執倔強的鄰家才女。而今天愛上的Olivia則是純粹的甜。

這名叫Olivia Ong的小妮子，華人面孔，東南亞的蜜糖膚色，長期在日本發展，嘴裡說的是英語，唱的是巴西bossa nova的經典樂曲 (新碟才轉走acoustic路線)。很有趣的女孩。才二十歲呢。

今天download了這女孩幾首歌聽了才沒幾次，便心思思想把她的靚聲據為己擁有。一放工便直奔HK Records，二話不說便乖乖掏出一百二十元，換來一屋的甜。

天啊，甜得要命，她自己卻仍是泰然的懶洋洋。很厲害！

N.B. 買的是A Girl Meets Bossa Nova 2。推介歌曲：Kiss of Life, L-O-V-E, One Note Samba。其實也很喜歡Bossa Nova 1 的Love Fool...唉，還是月尾再買罷。

Paris, Texas

Continuing my journey with Wim Wenders. Fell in love with "Paris, Texas" just five minutes into it.

A strikingly poetic movie, interwoven by long shots of geographical nowheres and close-ups of facial blankness and spiritual emptiness. Just with a quick glimpse of how the story begins, you get the mood: a long shot of a bleak rocky desert for ten seconds; followed by a close-up of a hawk landing on a boulder; then back to the desert where a man in a tattered suit and ridiculously a red baseball cap was staggering; finally a close-up of the face of this man in his bushy beard and with his sun-burnt cheeks. Now, Wenders is ready to tell this story of alienation and loneliness.

Beautiful images, lonely souls...But, don't get me wrong -- it is in no way the kind of art-house movie that only artists understand. It is easily accessible by anyone. In fact you can find a lot of soap-drama elements in the story, only presented with a little more idyllic charm. My synopsis below will immediately tell you how good the story itself is.

Directionless, purposeless, speechless, penniless, Travis kept walking in the middle of a desert in Texas for four years for a forgotten reason. His brother came all the way from L.A. to bring him back to sense, speech, civilisation and life, although the four years of disappearance remained to be a mystery. Under the care of his brother and sister-in-law, and with the forgiving love of his seven-year-old boy, Travis struggled to put his life back together. One day, he decided to take his boy for a journey to find the boy's mother, which ended with a final understanding of what had happened between him, his wife and his son.

Excellent characterisation too. You naturally slip into the hearts of the outwardly rugged but inwardly tender Travis searching for himself, his supportive middle-class brother and sister-in-law struggling to let go, his intelligent and understanding boy learning to forgive and accept, his remorseful and very beautiful young wife trying to escape...You won't ever forget any one of them.

As in all movies, you smile, sulk, sob, sigh as the story "Paris, Texas" unfolds. But unlike most movies, you are awed by the breathtaking images, mused by the powerful symbolisms and touched by the convincing characters for two entire hours and beyond.

Another classic. Another recent favourite.

N.B. Just found out there's even a fancy fan site made for this movie...Cool~

http://perso.orange.fr/forban/index.htm

巧遇，錯過，落差，繼續尋找：暗戀桃花源

巧遇了：江雲二人在老遠的上海巧遇；姣婆春花與姿粉客袁老板巧遇；落漠老陶與夢幻桃花源巧遇；現代文藝大悲劇與古代胡鬧劇在舞台巧遇…

錯過了：江濱柳錯過了雲之凡，雲之凡錯過了江濱柳；中國錯過了抗戰後難得的和平日子；老陶錯過了奈不住空虛的春花，春花錯過了心裡還念著的老陶；陶花袁三人錯過了以後在桃花源安居的機會...

落差了：江雲二人在思念四十年後重逢，卻發現如何也回不去了；春花和袁老闆想像中車厘子眼孩子通山跑的日子並沒有兌現，現實是家徒四壁，孩子只會哭和撒尿；老陶要回去看春花，卻發現她已與袁育有孩子，有新生活；<<暗>>劇導演以為此自傳劇能把他的過去帶回來，這些不懂演活「白色山茶花」的演員卻只有使他失望；<<桃>>劇演員堅持不被騒擾，但騒擾本來便是現實的一部份；神秘瘋女以為劉子驥將赴約，結果到兩劇都排演完畢她還是自己孤零零…

繼續尋找：明知回不了過去，江濱柳尋雲之凡的廣告仍是登；雖然春花和袁老闆明明對現狀不滿，但仍願共同把日子捱過去，把希望寄在孩子上；老陶回不了桃花源，還是繼續找那個虛幻的入口；導演演員雖對各樣安排諸多投訴，還是把劇演完；瘋女子等不到劉子驥，還是繼續找、一直等…

人生本來就是尋找桃花源的旅程。即使錯過了，落差了，人還不是繼續會尋找嗎？讓我們都暗戀桃花源。

當下

我今天留意到兩則新聞：
一. 十四歲女童會考得八優一5*
二. 馬力病逝

十四歲女童成了新聞主角，神情春風得意，父母、校長、老師都沾光，只因今天她獲得如此這般成績。

馬力五月最後一次見傳媒，當時因為「六四沒屠城」論，受萬人辱罵指責。今天逝世，老友曾鈺城還要替他辯護，只因他最後對大家說的是這涼薄話。

我在想，若明天女童便死，她必定將會因為今天的「成就」而被說成「英年早逝」。但當女童四十歲，若她犯了錯，她的上司會因為其會考成績罵她少一點嗎？而她死於八十時，她的死亡還會讓人注意嗎？

我又想，若馬力多活三十年，他五月說的話，還會成為報道他病逝的焦點嗎？若他當天便知自己大限將至，他還會選擇「六四沒屠城」作為他的遺言嗎？

是時間把人定功過對錯呢。多虛無。

我又想到<<柏林蒼窮下>> (很美的片名)中，守望柏林的黑衣天使。他們並沒有批判二戰中誰對誰錯，東德西德那裡分界，那人成功那人失敗，甚麼是美甚麼是醜。天使只是在落入凡間的第一刻，因為血是有味道、空氣很冷而興奮，因為世界有紅、有黃、有綠、有灰藍而雀躍。天使在旁觀了世界幾億萬年的進化後選擇了真正的「活」。

When the child was a child
It walked with its arms swinging
It wanted the stream to be a river
The river a torrent
And this puddle to be the sea
When the child was a child
It didn't know it was a child
Everything was full of Life
And all Life was one
When the child was a child
It had no opinion about anything
It had no habits
It often sat cross-legged
Took off running
Had a cowlick in its hair
And didn't pull a face when photographed.

誰也不知那天是人生最後一天，當下成了唯一可以掌控的。有人認為正是如此，便應把握當下，以求撒手後貢獻成就被肯定；有人，則只求像黑衣天使，感受當下在活的好。我選擇後者，你呢。

回來了,便好了

甚麼都比不上這樣好

Middle Class Guilt

Somebody said the recent universal lament about global warming is mirroring some kind of 'middle class guilt' sentiments. Intriguing argument.

First, let us take a closer look at what middle class is. 'Middle class' or 'bourgeoise', a paradoxical concept about classifications of people in society. It has never been only a topic in ideological and political '...isms' out of reach by the majority. No. Instead, the concept 'middle class' has always been accepted as a matter of fact in our everyday life. 'Middle class' is equivalent to high education, stable handsome salary, abundant chances of travel, good taste of music, books, movies, sports, fashion and food, or in short, quality of life. In a practical earthy Hong Kong sense, middle class is synonymous to an overseas (preferably American or British) degree, a 1000 sq feet harbour-view house with either flamboyant or minimalist interior design, weekend golf or boat trips, Waltz or these days Salsa, Diana Krall and Il Divo, 號外orTime, 明報,經濟or SCMP, Burberry, Gucci or LV (but no monograms please), Starbucks or 'non-cha-chan-tang' style coffee in general, City Super and GREAT, frequent long distance flights, children in English Foundation or DSS schools... You know what I mean. Ask any average Hong Konger, I am sure s/he will come up with a similar list and tell you this is his/her dream lifestyle.

Right, everybody is struggling to get there - be 'middle class'. But who defines what 'there' is like and who plants these images in our mind then? In fact, this label has been deep-rooted in human mind for centuries, probably since the decline of the church and landlords and the emergence of industrialists and businessmen with accumulating wealth during the Industrial Revolution era. It has however taken on a different shape these days with the triumph and omnipresence of advertisements. Yes, advertisements that are literally invading every single corner. These ubiquitous and fanciful images have turned all the qualities of middle class into commodities, in other words, things that you need to pay for. Therefore, to be middle-class, you should prefer Starbucks coffee (which costs you double) to Hong Kong style milk-tea. To be middle class, you should visit HMV to buy DVDs and CDs that can be conveniently bought in local stores. To be middle class, you should subscribe SCMP or Time, even though you can hardly finsh one-third of each issue. To be middle class, you have to own a nice flat in an estate where the entrance lobby has a chandelier, never mind you have to work your whole life off the 5 m mortgage. These are the things that get you into the middle-class. Who cares whether you know the difference between Palestine and Pakistan, whether you know who you are voting for, whether you literally read or flip through the 村上春樹 or Kafka you're carrying, whether you call prostitutes dirty and cheap 'chickens' while frequently enjoying their service, whether you give your seat to a pregnant woman on MTR (let me rephrase -- middle-class people seldom take MTR), whether you give way to or swear at one of those slow-moving cardboard old ladies when you drive, whether you only blame the school for your children's misbehaviour while spoiling them with an unlimited supply of playthings like NDS, Wii and iPhone but never a book.

Now, do we have a reason for guilt? I believe yes. I am not saying that middle class is a group of people we should despise. In fact, I somehow quite like or am struggling to get many of the things mentioned above too. What I am saying is just 'Can we be a little bit more than that?' While we are enjoying all the privileges that our effort and much more importantly our luck (luck of being born with the intelligence, to be exact ability to memorize all that is required in the public exams and get into a university to get a decent degree and a handsome salary) bring us, we should also make an effort to understand how we are made, and how our earth and the unfortunate ones suffer as a result. Let us try to make a difference not merely by making a scanty monthly donation of $100 to an organization whose work we hardly even know.

大師...在棋盤上輸了

瑞典电影大师英格玛-伯格曼辞世 享年89岁

曾经执导过《第七封印》、《野草莓》等经典作品的瑞典电影大师英格玛·伯格曼于瑞典当地时间7月30日(周一)在他的家乡法罗去世，享年89岁。　　英格玛·伯格曼的作品一生创作过50多部作品，其中《处女泉》、《杯中黑影》、《呼喊与细语》和《芬妮与亚历山大》于1960年、1962年、1972年和1982年先后夺得奥斯卡最佳外语片奖。《夏夜的微笑》、《第七封印》、《女人的期待》、《野草莓》、《魔术师》、《处女泉》和《杯中黑影》则让他在柏林、戛纳和威尼斯等欧洲三大电影节各有斩获。

沒想過看他的seventh seal才兩天，他便輸了棋局，讓死神帶走了。正如戲中所要說的，這博弈有誰嬴得了？希望他在另一空間會找到他窮一生追尋的死神的秘密，得到永恒的平安。

大師說大時代的人生大意義 The Seventh Seal

對歐洲中古時代生活、黑死病、十字軍等等的來龍去脈一知半解，更莫說對片名取自的聖經<<啟示錄>>有任何認識，還是慕名地看了 Ingmar Bergman 的 The Seventh Seal。

故事很簡單：騎士和隨從入伍十字軍十年後，回到歐洲。正值黑死病肆虐，死神每天奪去無數生命。死神現身於騎士前，騎士不甘就死，便挑戰死神下棋，以爭取活在世上的時間。故事便是說他們倆回家途中的所見所聞：如認識了年青樂觀的演員一家，遇上吵鬧寃氣的鐵丈夫婦，救了險被神職員強姦的女子，又碰上被冠女巫之名活活燒死的少女，看到背著基督十架、互相鞭打求主寬恕及宣揚死亡將至的信徒隊伍等。

大師很會說故事。善用音效 (留意第一幕，在海邊死神出場的音效!)、光影 (黑白電影最會用流光疏影、輪廓明暗去製造氣氛)、鏡頭 (面部特寫和長時間遠距離的鏡頭使用很多，還有常轉換不同角色的角度拍攝) 、剪接技巧 (記得那信徒隊伍走過荒野時的重疊影像，還有希治閣式驚嚇場面的剪接)，牽引觀眾情緒。把簡單的故事說得動聽。

大師很會發問。他透過不同的角色發問：神存在嗎？神為何要人受苦？人可以不信神嗎？不信神苦還是信神根本便不會打救人苦？若神不存在，人為甚麼存在？面對死亡，人該如何自處？人為甚麼恐懼死亡？死亡之後會是甚麼？

大師也很會答問題。不，他並沒有答問題，他卻透過一眾角色展示了不同的答案：騎士是理想主義者，認為人在世必須追尋生命的意義。一直以來視侍奉神為生命的意義，但親歷了戰爭的殺戮和瘟疫的無情後，對信仰一度懷疑，最後卻寧願相信神，寧願相信人生有其意義。也正因為他的堅持，為演員一家帶來了光明。隨從表現的是截然不同的人生觀，他輕蔑信仰規條，冷眼看追尋人生意義的可笑，縱然死亡隨時來臨，但只要在生之時盡情唱歌喝酒畫畫，管它神在那裡，人生多苦？做可以做的事(如救人)，做不到的便作罷。不爭取，也不退縮。最後演員夫婦代表的是不理性的希望。他們由衷的歌頌神，對神的眷顧毫不懷疑。他們似乎無知，明明黑死病肆虐，各村莊人人自危，他們仍在山坡吃草莓喝牛奶。但他們獨自住在如挪亞方舟般的馬車上，冥冥之中便可逃離死亡。

人生大意義在大師手中放得無限大，迫使觀眾審視這哲學性得很遙遠的問題。這麼哲學性的問題，當然還有很多我還未看懂的，例如，那個一直跟著隨從而從不說話的女孩要代表甚麼，演員看到聖母教耶穌走路又是要說甚麼。但無論如何，我不是說大師很會說故事嗎？即使不完全明白當中意義，誰也會看得入神的。何況嚴肅片段之間還有沙士比亞式的喜劇人物插科打諢？那些抵死精闢的對白，總令人會心微笑。

等待

很久沒有到過荃灣，昨天在荃灣廣場的中華書局打書釘，在吉之島十蚊店亂逛，再在紅螞蟻的落地大玻璃旁喝凍檸茶，便是一整個下午。這麼閑是因為...

等待大忙人放工。

這個月

都是等待再等待...

書

今天去了書展。不為甚麼，便是喜歡帶定大袋，一放工即刻換鞋，跟好友去「湧下湧下」的趁墟感覺。很好玩。

其實上星期才剛在深圳書城買了好幾本翻譯書，加上書展的折扣也不算多，滿心以為自己不會買甚麼。怎料胡亂逛逛看看，還是忍不住手買了一些回家。老遠的從灣仔捧回家，手都酸了，但很高興。

書展收獲清單：
1. 書寫城市-香港的身份與文化 -潘毅、余麗文編
2. 後現代主義 -Richard Appignanesi
3. 圖解世界史 (上)、(下) -小松田直
4. Animal Farm -George Orwell
5. Meta-global: Blind Spot -Roundtable

深圳書城買的：
1. 筆桿子、畫筆和毒葯 -Oscar Wildes
2. 現代生活的畫家 -Charles Baudelaire
2. 惡之花 -Charles Baudelaire
3. 情人杜拉斯 -Yann Andrea
4. 娜娜 -Emile Zola

除了Animal Farm是不見了再買回來，其餘的可要好長一段日子才看得完了。

Blind Chance

You talked about fate with me this morning (or last night for you in US). Indeed, we have come this far, largely because we are just following the chances presented to us. The coincidences, chances, or whatever you call them, along our path: love, family recognition, moving out, health, career moves, studying in Switzerland, financial growth, etc. are all that shaped our present time. Looking back, very few of these chances were sought. They just came.

I myself never strive very hard for anything in particular. But when chances, like wind, be it breeze or storm, are at the doorstep, I don't mind taking a ride and following where they lead me to. Even if I miss a ride, or if I fall in a turbulence, it is okay. There is always another gust on the way. After all, who knows whether all winds are leading to the same place. During these rides and falls, however, there's one thing I always hold on to with all my strength: your waist*.

One thing I did not tell you in MSN this morning is that coincidentallly I watched Kieslowski's Blind Chance last night. Haha, fate always has some amazing surprises in store for us.

* Just to rhyme. I haven't seen your waist for years already. Heehe

Before the Rain

Before the rain, three ill-fated love stories start and end.

Before the rain, hate spreads and blood is shed. An air of violence condenses in the moutainous Macedonia and fogs places as far as London.

Before the rain, a silent young Christian monk, an Albanian girl on the run, a world-wearied Macedonian war photographer, his widowed Albanian first-love, a London photographic editor, her bourgeois husband, are all linked up.

Some think Before the Rain displays the circularity of hate
and brutality, but it seems to me that it's not even circular. The events in the three stories, when narrated and viewed seperately, are linear; but when put in a circle by the surprising and clever ending of the last story, the events don't make sense any more. As suggested by one of the repeated lines in the movie, 'time never dies; the circle is never round'. With the tiny bits and pieces of clues here and there (e.g. characters of 2nd story appearing in 1st story, photos of events of 1st story shown in the 2nd story, news report of happenings of 3rd story broadcast in 2nd story, etc.) the audience are made to know that none of these stories should precede the other two, but these three stories cannot possibly happen at the same time either. These events simply don't fit in the 'time line' of any shape. Narration becomes illogical. Logic is defeated. Defeated by the absurd repetition and omnipresence of war.

Before the rain, it never rains.
Before the rain, it rains.

Before the rain, a wittily crafted movie of war that will disturb our hypocritical 'peace' of mind.

N.B. During these four days of being alone, I have already watched (or re-watched) four movies. Among them, Before the Rain really struck me with its beauty. To my surprise, I like it even better than the Angelopoulos' latest Weeping Meadow I have always wanted to watch. It's always a wonderful experience to keep watching until you see a great one that you can put into your Favourites list.

從馬爾代夫、新加坡之旅到...家、國和地球

馬爾代夫之旅寫意極了。我們選擇的酒店小島要乘水上飛機前往，可沿途在空中欣賞著名的環形珊瑚礁－深藍淺綠的水，或圓或缺的白沙和一點點黑色的珊瑚礁，很美。由於是淡季，全島只有七個住客，似乎都享受島上的寧靜，只會點頭微笑，互不打擾。島上甚麼都是恬靜隨心的。在珊瑚礁上在魚兒間浮潛、游泳，坐船到印度洋深海釣魚、看海豚，於藍天綠水旁的五星餐廳用吃不完的麵包餵魚，坐在亮得刺眼的水中讓浪輕打著身體發呆，或聽著海浪聲擁著高床軟枕午睡，又或在後院椰子樹下的按摩池泡到皮也起皺，還有夜裡躺在沙灘前看圓月把海水染銀。
很寧靜，很幸福。

最後一天，由於要等坐半夜的飛機，酒店安排了導遊下午帶我們逛只有兩平方公里的首都小島馬里。景點乏善可陳，不外乎是路過也不會留意的政府建築物，規模還不及大圍街市的水果、雜貨市場，只有那熱鬧的漁船碼頭和魚市場稍有意思。沒甚麼看，幸好導遊賣力地以他七零八落的英語跟我們介紹馬爾代夫人的生活，也甚有趣。馬爾代夫人一百巴仙信奉回教，很樂天和諧。主要交通工具是渡輛，生活節奏很慢，四處可見不做甚麼坐在草地路邊喝茶閒聊的人。但正如大部份回教國家，所有人也得嚴守規律教條。全國禁酒、禁賭。罪案率很低。守男女之別也很嚴，女人不至包至一身黑，但在炎熱天氣下全身裹起卻免不了，而且大多留在家，很少在街上碰到。最有趣的是男的只可吃藍色的魚，女的只可吃黃色；喝茶男的喝綠色，女的喝黃色。這確是很傳統也秩序井然的社會。





新加坡兩天不到的停留只是「順帶一遊」，卻出奇地不錯。住的是精巧有心思的Scarlet精品酒店 ，吃的是連嘴习的你也讚不絕口的海南雞飯、胡椒蟹、咖喱雞米等大排檔美食，夜裡去了在熱帶雨林旁的Night Safari看只有在National Geographic才看到的稀奇夜間動物，上機前的早上在印度廟外窺看教徒祈禱（還是祭祀，我們也看不懂），還有在商業區中心亂闖亂逛尋找魚尾獅。

新加坡這彈丸之地竟可自強不息獨立成國，的確令人佩服。在車上，看公路兩旁悉心栽種一式一樣的林蔭，聽只播懷舊英語金曲的電台節目和準確快捷的新聞廣播，便可知新加坡的社會模式。樹木可給炎熱天氣帶來涼意，又代表環保，象徵文明，當然要種。新加坡是華人、馬拉人和印度人三大種族共處之地，使用英語便可免除種族衝突，又可建立國際化的形象，當然要落實執行。同樣地英語懷舊金曲，能照顧所有新加坡人的文化背景，而且可確保歌詞不露骨粗鄙，又切合新加坡人高雅的品味，當然要播。至於新聞廣播當然有其實際需要，否則怎可確保商業中心的地位？這麼精確計算的城市，很厲害。旅遊期間突然想到一則笑話：Singapore is a fine（很不錯的／罰款） city.

遊這兩個地方時，我不期然想到香港。假期正落在香港回歸十週年紀念日。七月一日，我問你想看回歸慶典嗎，你說有甚麼好看。真的，循例做台戲：領導人、特首致詞，群星獻唱，煙花匯演，萬人大合唱「我愛香港」之類的主題曲等等，誰愛看。但在這慶典進行的同時，更多人卻以自己的方式表達對這城市的(無)感情，自豪、憧憬、怨懟、懷疑、迷惘。這正是我想念香港之處。我也許羡慕馬爾代夫和新加坡這兩地人民安穩、和諧的生活，但想到回教徒的清規戒律、新加坡人的計算刻板，不期然便想到香港包羅萬有的好。幸好，我家在香港。

有一點這兩地的人卻讓身為香港人的我慚愧不已的。他們都愛惜身處的環境。馬爾代夫釣魚期間遇上了一個漂浮的膠樽，發現後，船夫立即用木棍子把它鈎回船上。新加坡的夜間動物園不是單純吸引遊客的遊樂場，卻是市民帶著孩子感受大自然的保育場所。旅遊新加坡其間偶爾撞進了一間書店，展示著以「危機年代」作題材的台灣雜誌，封面是被困於溶化得所剩無幾的冰塊上的白狐，很落漠的樣子，我倆便買了下來 (連結)。香港人何時會學會愛惜環境呢？只想說，我們的家也在地球。

看相片請按這裡

故人

不再出現於我今天生活的人甚少記起。

有趣的是，也從來不會碰上。地鐵上、商場裡擦身巧遇的不是常見面的數個至親好友，便是連名字也喊不出的舊同事、學生。那些曾在某時某日與我共喝一杯水、同聽一首歌、「煲電話粥」、說傻話談將來、一起遊歷成長的人，又或是曾牽動過我心情、讓我思使我哭的人，一段時間過後便總消失於無形。要我主動發個短訉約出來見個面，不是不可以，便是不會想起。

問我為何這樣無情，我不知道。也許是身邊家人至親都太好了，只願相伴之。也許是要逃避甚麼。但那些少時的片段，我並沒有扔掉，只是一直被我收到床底封塵的木箱內；有一天，當我拿它們出來放時，心裡對這些映畫中的故人還是感激和祝褔的。

正如今天。

Silence

Silence offers the best escape;
escape only highlights its presence.

Present silence.
Silent presence --
the best present.

從俗

才不要不凡，才不要超然。

只想從俗，扎實的生活。

只因我知道，

幸福從不是盪氣迴腸，

更不是甚麼才華成就，皮囊色相。

幸福是斗室間的相廝相守，同寢同息，一飲一啄。

我們的早餐

轉工後，每星期總有兩三天可以跟你一起出門吃早餐。

你總推著單車跟我走路到大圍市中心。路上，兩旁是樹，河上有白鷺 ，間中有騎著單車，帶著狗的途人，很寧靜。走不了多久，你鼻上便會冒出「粒粒汗」--哈哈，我最愛取笑你這個。

來到市中心，把單車鎖好，便醫肚去。「太興茶餐廳」是必然之選 -- 舒服，乾淨企理，還有大大杯凍檸茶，凍鴛鴦。若有甚麼財經大事，你總會「歎」一會信報，我便搶著文化版來看。看一會，你便會一邊吃你的沙嗲牛肉/午餐肉通粉和太陽蛋，一邊跟我談這個說那個。
這一個月，你的話特別多。我便靜靜聽你的心思。

這兩個星期要一早上課，真的很懷念我們的早餐。

Emilie Simon 的奇幻世界

昨天晚上終於看到她的現場演繹 -- 說終於也許有點不乎事實，我喜歡上她才數個月，她便應法國五月的邀請來港作一晚演出，是我的幸運罷。

黑色的背景，沒有舞台設計，台上只有各式各樣的樂器，和有限的紅綠燈光作陪襯。

在不足一個半小時的演出裡 (對，正確地說只有一小時二十分鐘，短得驚人) 穿黑色短裙赤著足的她活脫像一隻黑色小兔。從舞台一角跑到另一角，轉到後方又跳回台前。沒完沒了的把玩她各式各樣的樂器，一時背起電子結他、木結他，一時靜靜坐在鋼琴後，還不忘撥弄臂上自創的電子樂器。小兔一邊跳著轉著，口裡一邊送出甜美古怪的音樂，異想天開的如 I wanna be your dog 和 Never fall in love ("I am not human. We will never be the same...Roses never fall in love")，充滿童真趣味的如 Flowers ("I want to buy you flowers. It's a shame that you're a boy.") 和 All is white "I (penguin) want to live in paradise. I want to live in the south")，像夢囈的如 Opium (法文) 和 Swimming ("I was swimming across the sky, clouds and angels by my side...")。 我不是曾說過，很tim burton嗎？

若emilie是小兔，是誰把她帶到這音樂世界？魔術師。(別笑，這名字是我從其他觀眾口中偷來的，又的確貼切) 後方的台階上，頭戴黑色禮服帽的電子混音師在一台黑色音響儀器前手舞足蹈，賣力的把音樂調高弄低。最有趣的還算是吊起來的方框，他隨節奏在框內的中空位置的彈撥，紅色的雷射線便在他手上閃現。很電子，很超科技，很超現實。同時我還是深信他便是童話中的從帽中取出小兔的魔術師。

在另一邊廂是超原始的音樂。只穿簡單灰白襯衣的敲擊樂手的樂器是三個普通不過的鼓，一盤水，一塊像洗衣板的木，一條膠管，還有三角琴的琴箱、琴弦。當然，還少不了他那雙不可思議的手。他雙手在這些原始的物件上拍拍打打便製造出跟電子音樂莫名配合的聲響，我看(聽)得目(耳)不暇給。

個多小時的奇幻旅程很快便完結。燈亮起，眨一眨眼，便回到現實世界。放眼一看是難得一見座無虛席的大會堂演奏廳。回頭一看是因為幾近滿座而被迫坐在我身後的你，連忙挽著你的手，問：「悶嗎？」。哈，早已不耐煩的你已在查看電話了。沒打緊，你陪我，我已很快樂。

甜滿嘴的日本森永紅豆糖

同事請你吃一顆，好吃。「可以給大眼*買一包嗎？」你問。

超級甜，超級好味，超級似紅豆冰。

*我在單車會眾人口中的名字...^^

失去，不可以

常問：若一天我被車撞倒，死了，你會怎樣？若我消失了，你會怎樣？
問只是撒嬌，要更多疼愛，從不認真。

昨天重看<<藍>>，讓我想到我一生失去過甚麼。原來沒有甚麼，關心的人都安然在我身旁。你說我很幸福，這個我知道。

但幸福可以永遠嗎？上天終有一日從我這裡取走甚麼，怎辦？。父母動手術，你病的日子時好好收藏起來的恐懼，一下子湧出來。記得當天我跟自己說：不可以，不可以。
昨天，我再說一遍：不可以。

請你時刻記著，不可以。

生日很快樂

很久很久沒有畫過甚麼，把家裡唯一、早封了塵的十色粉彩翻出來，是要畫昨晚那很漂亮的蛋糕 。畫得很醜，但我很高興。

昨晚一家人，還有你，都在我身旁，都寵我。我很快樂。


註：蛋糕是我最愛的士多啤梨拿破崙。項鏈是我嚷著要你買的。cd是哥哥悄悄在我blog得知我喜歡emilie後買的。

Emilie Simon -- 幽靈女孩

詭異的甜蜜，總是剎食的。
她活脫是tim burton的聲音版。童真中陰暗，怪誕裡爛漫。

近日一坐下來便不停放。
讓一團黑把我包裹起來，讓我尋找乍躲乍現的綠光。

(you tube播的是她替<<小企鵝大長征>>造的音樂之一)

回家喝湯

星期天在火車站，一個中年婦人在電話中半罵半怨、既啕且鬧的說：「咁你連湯都唔返o黎飲啦！」之後似乎沒再說甚麼，但我斜眼看到她哭了。我低頭便怱怱繼續上路。

那天晚上，我回媽媽家裡喝了兩大碗濃濃的湯。
還有捧了早已盛好包好的一大盒回家。

The Death of Mr. Lazarescu -- tender complexity of life

A film with a minimal plot: Mr. Lazarescu is very ill one day and a 'nurse' (stop fancying -- already in her 50s) takes him on a 'journey' from one doctor to another, each of whom comes up with a different diagnosis, and from one hospital to another, all of which are short of beds and the 'right' personnel and/or equipment, until Lazarescu's death puts an end to it.

Despite the tragic ending, the film is in fact a comedy, one that may not set you off laughing your head off, but that will definitely raise a smile. The destined helplessness of Lazarescu's medical journey and sadness of his death are completely offset by the playful dialogues and amusing description of humanity: the chaotic quarrelsome but definitely warm and happy -- in its own down-to-earth sense -- life of the couple nextdoor; the laughable ignorance and self-styled 'know-it-all' attitude of the in fact sympathetic and dutiful nurse; the snobbishness and self-righteousness that the doctors use to hide their exhaustion, ignorance and yearning for family and love. These characters' stories that weave together to form Lazarescu's last journey are making a hundred different statements of life. However different from one another they may seem, these statements are in fact celebrating one thing all the same: tender complexity of humanity.

If you're looking for a movie that tells little tragic stories of 'nobodies' and 'somebodies' in a comical lively way, you just can't miss this one.

IMDb link: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0456149/

N.B. I also experienced some complexities when watching this film: 1. To catch the next film, I really had to miss the last 10 minutes or so; 2. Someone beside me, if not asleep, just couldn't stop yawning, moving and checking her watch... ^____^

My B Bean, Pepper & Petal

I don't know why, but after typing the text in YouTube, I couldn't get the video posted here. I could only post it as it is, without changing the title and adding any text...=(Anyway, the following message should in fact go with the Yorkie YouTube video.

O my god, they are definitely the
CUTEST possible things on earth!

B Bean, Pepper & Petal, wait for me. I'll bring you home very soon...

N.B. Pepper & Petal are names I have recently
decided to give my 2nd & 3rd puppies.
^3^

約瑟爹利 (Yorkshire Terrier)

Running my workshops

I didn't realize how I would look to my workshop participants until that day my nice colleague came to take some photos of me for our department's publicity. Strange looking at myself through other people's eyes. This serious side of me... =)

Letter to Daniel

The moment I finished reading my brother’s blog posting <<生孩子這回事>>, a loving father’s voice started and still keeps lingering in my mind.

Fergal Keane, a BBC foreign correspondent who has reported from various international crises areas including Northern Ireland, Southern Africa and Asia and been honoured by numerous journalism awards, 12 years ago, in a quiet morning in Hong Kong, wrote a letter to his new-born son, Daniel. This letter, ‘Letter to Daniel’, once broadcast (read aloud by Fergal himself), immediately prompted a staggering heartfelt response from audience around the globe.

Letter to Daniel Hong Kong, February
1996

My dear son,

it is six o'clock in the morning on the island of Hong Kong. You
are asleep cradled in my left arm and I am learning the art of one-handed typing. Your mother, more tired yet more happy than I've ever known her, is sound asleep in the room next door and there is soft quiet in our apartment. Since you've arrived, days have melted into night and back again and we are learning a new grammar, a long sentence whose punctuation marks are feeding and winding and nappy changing and these occasional moments of quiet.

When you're older we'll tell you that you were born in Britain's last Asian colony in the lunar year of the pig and that when we brought you home, the staff of our apartment block gathered to wish you well. "It's a boy, so lucky, so lucky. We Chinese love boys," they told us. One man said you were the first baby to be born in the block in the year of the pig. This, he told us, was good Feng Shui, in other words a positive sign for the building and everyone who lived there. Naturally your mother and I were only too happy to believe that. We had wanted you and waited for you, imagined you and dreamed about you and now that you are here no dream can do justice to you.

We have called you Daniel Patrick but I've been told by my Chinese friends that you should have Chinese name as well and this glorious dawn sky makes me think we'll call you Son of the Eastern Star. So that later, when you and I are far from Asia, perhaps standing on a beach some evening, I can point at the sky and tell you of the Orient and the times and the people we knew there in the last years of the twentieth century. Your coming has turned me upside down and inside out. So much that seemed essential to me has, in the past few days, taken on a different colour. Like many foreign correspondents I know, I have lived a life that, on occasion, has veered close to the edge: was zones, natural disasters, darkness in all its shapes and forms. In a world of insecurity and ambition and ego, it's easy to be drawn in, to take chances with our lives, to believe that what we do and what people say about us is reason enough to gamble with death. Now, looking at your sleeping face, inches away from me, listening to your occasional sigh and gurgle, I wonder how I could have ever thought glory and prizes and praise were sweeter than life.

And it's also true that I am pained, perhaps haunted is a better word, by the memory, suddenly so vivid now, of each suffering child I have come across on my journeys. To tell you the truth, it's nearly too much to bear at this moment to even think of children being hurt and abused and killed. And yet looking at you, the images come flooding back. Ten-year-old Andi Mikail dying from napalm burns on a hillside in Eritrea, how his voice cried out, growing ever more faint when the wind blew dust on to his wounds. The two brothers, Domingo and Juste, in Menongue, southern Angola. Juste, two years old and blind, dying from malnutrition, being carried on seven -year-old Domingo's back. And Domingo's words to me, 'He was nice before, but now he has the hunger'.

Last October, in Afghanistan, when you were growing inside your mother, I met Sharja, aged twelve. Motherless, fatherless, guiding me through the grey ruins of her home, everything was gone, she told me. And I knew that, for all her tender years, she had learned more about loss than I would likely understand in a lifetime.

There is one last memory. Of Rwanda, and the churchyard of the parish of Nyarabuye where, in a ransacked classroom, I found a mother and her three young children huddled together where they'd been beaten to death. The children had died holding on to their mother, that instinct we all learn from birth and in one way or another cling to until we die.

Daniel, these memories explain some of the fierce protectiveness I feel for you, the tenderness and the occasional moments of blind terror when I imagine anything happening to you. But there is something more, a story from long ago that I will tell you face to face, father to son, when you are older. It's a very personal story but it's part of the picture. It has to do with the long lines of blood and family, about our lives and how we can get lost in them and, if we're lucky, find our way out again into the sunlight.

It begins thirty-five years ago in a big city on a January morning with now on the ground and a woman walking to hospital to have her first baby. She is in her early twenties and the city is still strange to her, bigger and noisier than the easy streets and gentle hills of her distant home. She's walking because there is no money and everything of value has been pawned to pay for the alcohol to which her husband has become addicted. On the way, a taxi driver notices her sitting, exhausted and cold, in the doorway of a shop and he takes her to hospital for free. Later that day, she gives birth to a baby boy and, just as you are to me, he is the best thing she has ever seen. Her husband comes that night and weeps with joy when he sees his son. He is truly happy. Hungover, broke, but in his own way happy, for they were both young and in love with each other and their son.

But, Daniel, time had some bad surprises in store for them. The cancer of alcoholism ate away at the man and he lost his family. This was not something he meant to do or wanted to do, it just was. When you are older, my son, you will learn about how complicated life becomes, how we can lose our way and how people get hurt inside and out. By the time his son had grown up, the man lived away from his family, on his own in a one-roomed flat, living and dying for the bottle. He died on the fifth of January, one day before the anniversary of his son's birth, all those years before in that snowbound city. But his son was too far away to hear his last words, his final breath, and all the things they might have wished to say to one another were left unspoken.

Yet now, Daniel, I must tell you that when you let out your first powerful cry in the delivery room of the Adventist Hospital and I became a father, I thought of your grandfather and, foolish though it may seem, hoped that in some way he could hear, across the infinity between the living and the dead, your proud statement of arrival. For if he could hear, he would recognise the distinct voice of family, the sound of hope and new beginnings that you and all your innocence and
freshness have brought to the world.

To listen: http://news.bbc.co.uk/player/nol/newsid_4280000/newsid_4280400/4280492.stm?bw=nb&mp=rm#

瞄muse

"又o黎? 日日塞十份吹水癈紙入人pigeon hole..."滿心以為是city的宣傳刊物，手正要把這粉紅尤物擲進垃圾箱之際，幸好讓我瞄到標題下香港文化誌的小字，匆匆縮手，立即便在辦公室讀起來，終於讓我找到一本甚得我心的雜誌。

我不是文化人，更不是藝術人，正確地說，我的生活是半點藝術氣質也沒有：愛shopping，愛扮靚，做facial，家中數十隻公仔，一邊嚷著要減肥一邊吃薯片...但一翻開<<瞄>>便莫名的喜歡上這文化藝術雜誌來。若說莫名也不完全正確，我想我是被這英中混雜的微妙吊詭吸引著。

這雜誌的一大特色是「中英雙語廣播」，但跟其他中英雜誌不同的是，英文與中文不是倒模式翻譯的。在<<瞄>>，兩種語言有獨立生命，時而各有各說，時而互相補足。雜誌Editorial Director這樣解釋雜誌語言的定位：

Muse is a primarily English magazine, sprinkled with Chinese throughout. On first glance, and when you see the Chinese prominently displayed, you may be tempted to search the English article for the exact sentences translated into Chinese, and vice versa. Most of the time you won't find it, for our purpose is not to translate articles or even sentences from English into Chineses. We want the two languages to play different roles...

接著他道出數個運用中文的原則：1. 若翻譯成英文，精髓將流失；2. 香港地道俚語；3. 中文小說、詩詞；4. 中文評論可給英文文章帶來新角度。

隨便以一篇賀歲片的評論為例，中文註腳便給了全文一縷靈魂：

「這套電影令人反胃的程度，遠遠超過在<<美女廚房>>上弄過的任何一道無法入口的菜式」

中文寫得「到肉」，英文也寫得俐落，也引錄一小段在此。

The problem with 鄭中基(Ronald
Cheng) is that he isn't very funny. He's a comedian whose primary skills seem to
be smiling and corss-dressing. He doesn't have the desperate urgency of Jim
Carrey, who plunges with manic intensity after his needs and desires, which can
be very funny. And he has none of the verbal brilliance and comic timing of
周星馳(Stephen Chow).

除了欣賞<<瞄>>遣詞用句外，很「香港」的雜誌內容也是另一我喜歡這雜誌的原因。雜誌內容涉獵很廣，理所當然的有電影節電影介紹，令人驚喜的有香港次文化代表彭志銘和年輕劇作家莊梅岩的訪問。介紹的藝術表演也是跨地域的，既有崑曲，也有莫斯科交響樂。形式媒介也各自各精彩，找到傳統文學作品之餘，又可找到替tvb劇集申辯的篇章。

寫了這好一會，突然感到香港多元的可愛。也感到自己滿屋小飛象、隔陣子總要買對Dior的低B凡俗的同時，其實也容得下一些intelligent thinking和欣賞文藝的空間。正如這中英夾雜、市井俚語和學院派討論共冶一爐的<<瞄>>一樣。只因我們都生於香港。

Three Dead Bodies & Two Striking Stories

Three bodies were found recently.

Two were found in Italy just one day before this year's Valentine's Day. They have been literally 'in each other's arms' for 5,000 years and still are -- the people made sure they would not be parted when being removed from the earth.

擁抱五千年,義大利雙人骸骨於情人節前夕出土 (路透社) 02月 14日 星期三 12:31AM

路透羅馬電---埋葬於5,000多年以前，並互相擁抱的一對伴侶，周二出土時仍緊緊相擁。而周三便是情人節。

為求保存這擁抱姿勢，科學家並未選擇一塊塊取出頦骨。

(http://hk.news.yahoo.com/070214/3/21th5.html)

One was found in New York the very first day of the Year of Pig. When the 70-year-old widower was found, he had been dead but seated in front of a blaring TV for more than a year. And nobody even knew. Nobody knew, probably because since his wife's death, his TV set had been his only companion, the only person he could scold, laugh at and share his emotions with. Saddest story I have read recently.

NEW YORK (Reuters) 18 February 07 -- Police called to a Long Island man's house discovered the mummified remains of the resident, dead for more than a year, sitting in front of a blaring television set.

The 70-year-old Hampton Bays, New York, resident, identified as Vincenzo Ricardo, appeared to have died of natural causes. Police said on Saturday his body was discovered on Thursdaywhen they went to the house to investigate a report of a burst water pipe.

(http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/02/17/death.television.reut/index.html)

The moment we die, what else do we ask for apart from a tinest bit of 'love' from someone other than a TV set?

My new blog 'The Sun in a Golden Cup'

My new blog 'The Sun in a Golden Cup' was just born!

I named it after a line from my recent idol Carla Bruni's song, 'Those Dancing Days are Gone'. This interesting song actually comes from William Butler Yeats' poem -- and so do all the other songs in the album 'No Promises'.And she did it all by herself!! So cool.

Come, let me sing into your ear;

Those dancing days are gone,

All that silk and satin gear;

Crouch upon a stone,

Wrapping that foul body up

In as foul a rag:

I carry the sun in a golden cup.

The moon in a silver bag.

...

I thought it out this very day.

Noon upon the clock,

A man may put pretence away

Who leans upon a stick,

May sing, and sing until he drop,

Whether to maid or hag:

I carry the sun in a golden cup,

The moon in a silver bag.

Despite weighty issues like aging and death, the images are deliciously beautiful. ^^

Hope my life will be blessed with, and so my blog will record, images like Bruni's too.