Erenlai - Items filtered by date: Wednesday, 26 November 2008
Thursday, 27 November 2008 04:40

李金遠的油畫藝術

凡繪畫不離光與影的取捨,中國水墨畫尤然,墨與紙較量空間的比例,白與黑終以定形略地,水遊於兩端的過度。觀李金遠之作,個人所見,其畫之墨影與明光的拿捏成了一役真正的搏戰,「對搏」無疑為其畫作的主題。

若沒有差錯的話,我所見過的李金遠畫作,涵蓋了出道至今的畫作,首批的作品追隨其師馮建吳之畫跡,慢慢地探索四川各地奇景,透過這個過程,他逐漸覓得個人的風格。居法期間以至回國後,還有居泰期間以至回國後,畫作設色鮮豔明朗。在阿巴高原,繼而在涼山地區,又進行新的探索。之後他追溯利瑪竇從義大利南部赴北京之路,沿途創作系列作品。最近完成的畫,形景最為抽象,混用水墨與金色丙烯。隨著時地與風格的多元,若要給李金遠的畫作一分類,我會約略分為兩個類別,流光畫和幽墨畫,兩者可謂彼此互補。

幽墨諸畫作,光潛於墨形之後,隱耀不得出。光儼然自遊自走,惟讓人遺忘,不論宇宙、世上,或是人心,黑暗見勝。此類之作,幽暗凝重,力透紙背。高山巍峨,積墨沉鬱。丹青烘托黑墨,黑更見黑。畫中並非無光,靈明微光,惟恐盡滅。光多現於畫軸下半,令觀者自忖,斑斑點光,能否照亮暗天暗地?何以竟功?然生命竟在此處:眾獸、牧人和老婦。行者一步一行,同樣絕望的交戰,在心中掙扎。李金遠近作多用金色丙烯,其主要意旨無非引人領略,樹根在大地的深洞交搏。金色道出太陽遙不可及。從幽微的內心,大家想望一個光的世界,一個自由的風的世界。

反之,流光諸畫歡頌光的流湧,此刻正逢奇蹟閃出之時。誠屬奇蹟一樁,卻無人知曉。泰國景色的鳥兒,或是法國比里牛斯山的高山,輕吟輕唱。四川霧色近乎螢光色澤。利瑪竇的故鄉沉潤世上的千顏色彩。白雪道出,心的本性是永恆的早晨。深墨,黑影和幽深的殘跡,彷彿總在瞬間消融,進入光全然的榮耀。

某些畫作顯然介乎兩端,此類應屬李金遠上乘之作。幽墨諸畫恐有渲情之虞,而流光諸畫或偶失謹嚴,時而有失焦之憾。一端幽暗見勝,一端光忽焉凌駕,這些畫作居其中者,精確傳達李金遠對和諧狀態的探尋,在其中萬物尋得其性,其真向度。因此,畫立於渾沌與和諧之間,光浸透幽暗的肌理,幽暗以其陰影覆光,影下猶讓人聽聞鳥的歌聲:渾沌與和諧渾然一體。

一九九五年八月至一九九六年二月期間,李金遠首次赴法創作,這個時期的作品,有些人對其畫風呈現的張力,色彩運用的赤裸,感到驚奇。個人所見,這正標記了一個階段,確立光最終戰勝幽暗,這也是藝術家想要轉換的內在經驗。其後諸畫作,李金遠從這個具有決定性的體驗,以及中國的繪畫的根源之間,做出一個綜論。色彩的運用在國畫誠屬難題,但並不構成藝術形式的限制。就意境而言,國畫不求顏色似也,意求色的本源、源頭和奧蹟,光經由此出現,奪色,入形,生影,給予無盡的豐繁樣貌。李金遠目前處於創作力高的階段,正可如此觀之,李君直探光的本源,探向光的源頭,歸探火苗,看似微弱,卻不斷新生,直至微火燃燎萬物。從內心深處光的得勝,李金遠想要回歸火的初始,探向第一道火光,正如樹的歸根。

matrixa_ljy05_ct_s以上所述,諸多流光與幽暗的交戰,實則見於李金遠畫作的他類向度,如簡樸與蒼苦的對比,李金遠圖畫的佈局往往取用簡單的形式,而內心糾結的律動,呼應幽暗的構思,現於外在世界,正如內心世界一般。更重要的是,李金遠的畫作具有多重面向,其畫作可解讀為美學的呈現,寄涵中國現代史的寓意,畫家自我性靈發展的評述,跨文化滋養的實踐。對我而言,最令我感到驚奇的,是他的畫作所傳達出的深度靈修層面。前面所談的搏戰,並非是一場暴力之戰。所謂的搏戰,乃朝向柔性與去我的過程,這般的搏戰使得李金遠在面對宇宙的創造力量時,顯得卑亢,這場搏戰把李金遠置於醜與美,暴力與溫柔,幽暗與靈明對立的衝突震央。畫作形同畫家的靈魂,變成一個空間,通過陣痛,新天新地取形得貌。

如此的靈修深度,的確讓藝術家顯得卑亢,慧眼者適可辨得若干天梯,李金遠往後得以更上一層樓。以下乃吾人所思,曾再三躊躇是否道出,在此仍嘗試提出淺見。觀者欣賞李金遠某些畫作時,不禁隨畫牽引而問道,對李金遠這個人而言,是否「抒懷」比「領略」更為自如?換言之,李君作品呈現性靈赤誠的一面,欲求外放其內在的性靈和視野。同時,李金遠其視界外傳的方式,似乎讓我們覺得,李君之所以轉化體驗為畫,多來自靈光的直覺。李金遠取納奧蹟,較之轉化直覺,前者較為不易。

李金遠能否敞迎光湧的奇蹟,而不刻意流露抱負之痕?他能否領悟光的顯現,畫下光的靈明,正如光最初照耀人們的明亮?我認為,李金遠有朝必能納取生命的禮讚,並加以畫出,正如孩童在清晨甦醒,靈魂與光渾合為一。李金遠所畫的交戰,仍在他的心靈盤距,然而這個戰役領他探向樸實,探向其眼光直觀更加高致的境界。有朝李金遠將全然釋放居於內心的光,光的本源將在畫中湧現。

Wednesday, 26 November 2008 23:41

Rituals / Names / Memories

In many respects, this movie is all about rituals, informal or formal. There are four “rituals" shown in the course of the movie:

- Nakao and Ta-cheng first visit their old auntie, Haruko, paying her their respect after her son has been taken away by the ocean a few months before. The scene of their visit is immediately followed by an excerpt of the Ilisin in Sado, August 2008, when men from the same generation as the deceased come to his house and perform a dance of farewell and commemoration – an outside scene, strongly emotional, during which the mother, the widow and the three daughters of the deceased retreat into the house, where the soothing sound of the piano acts as a “healing’ ritual. Outer and inner spaces are drawn into two complementary ritual stages.

- Older women gathering twice a week within the premises of the Catholic church re-enact their childhood through the wearing of kimonos and the singing of nursery songs, mixing prayers and recreation. The whole sequence works as an “age group” ritual that reconciles different moments of time that are often opposed and thought to be irreconcilable (Japanese occupation/post-war regime; childhood/old age; prewar traditions/post-war Christianity…)

- Nakao and Ta-cheng meet with their grandfather. His playful evocation of childhood memories gives way to a meeting of clan representatives within the reconstituted communal house of Tafalong, which belongs to the oldest family of the village. At this occasion, the lineage of Nakao’s family is formally recognized as part of a larger lineage that links them to a trail of sixty generations. During this gathering, the grand-father sings the whole of the “Tafalong song” which describes the origins of the village from the events surrounding the rise of the big tide (“on the fifth day”…) on.

- Maybe moved to the occasion by the chant, Nakao and Ta-cheng perform two “private rituals” that can be understood as one. They first pay a visit to the oldest tomb of the village, the one of a chief who was a great-uncle of their 92 year old grand-father. They read aloud on the tomb all the names that they and their relatives still bear. Ill at ease with rituals they forget to pray on the tomb and go back precipitously for performing this duty when they realize their omission. Later on, they go to the shore and discreetly throw a few flowers into the sea, at the same time paying homage to their remotest ancestors and to the cousin who was drown there a few months ago, repeating the gesture that performed her widow once it was confirmed that his body could not be retrieved.

The diversity of formal and informal rituals goes along a search for one’s name. Elsewhere in this issue, Nakao explains all the naming and re-naming to which she has been subjected, a witness to the ambiguity of her position, her being the daughter of a man from Tafalong and of a deceased outsider, having spent her childhood in the village and having left it long time ago. More generally, the plasticity of names along the movie testifies to the richness and confusion of the Amis’ sense of identity, as the latter has been strongly linked to their capacity of nurturing relationships with neighboring minority groups, Taiwanese, Japanese, Chinese rulers coming from the continent and foreign missionaries… In that respect, Amis people have since long developed a “post- modern identity”, seen more in terms, of “relations” than as an unchanging “essence.” This striking characteristics might be linked to the absence of a given “territory”, as historical events have made the Amis’ “ancestral land” a vague and ever-evolving notion. Eventually, the number of names illustrates one’s position (more numerous are the names, more exalted the status), but the vagueness in naming also testifies to the confusion of origins, memories and social positioning. The multiplication of names and rituals works at the same time as a system of reassurance and as a witness of confused and tortured memories.

Eventually, the movie is made of the very stuff of memories – happy and tragic remembrances, embellished and hidden recollections, stories that are sung and ritualized, events that are repressed, forgotten and suddenly retrieved. By participating in the storytelling, by soliciting from the villagers their participation and active recollection, does not the documentary itself work as another ritual, aiming at social and personal healing while needing to be perpetually reenacted?

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Wednesday, 26 November 2008 23:40

Tafalong, past and present

Tafalong is a traditional Amis village located nearby the township of Fata’an (Guangfu), in Hualien county – a township with which it entertains an healthy, deep-rooted rivalry... Working the land remains the main activity: cultures of betel nut, rice, sweet potato fruits and vegetables shape the surrounding landscape. Yield is rather good, and the first impression of the outsider entering the area is certainly one of a hard-working, moderately affluent population. Older people are slowly walking along the streets, speaking mainly Amis among themselves, while the wandering groups of schoolchildren speak only Chinese and seem to be spoken to solely in that language.

Tafalong keeps alive songs and legends describing the creation of the world and evoking spirits, genealogies and rituals. As in other Amis areas, the Yearly Offering ("Ilisin" – often translated in English as the Harvest Festival), taking place sometime in August, remains the biggest event of the year. In Fata’an and, to a lesser extent in Tafalong proper, the Offering now takes place on a large scale and has become a much-publicized touristic event. Its State-sponsored promotion may have gone along the loss of meaning that the one who watches it might experience – still, its long preparation unites the whole community, and everybody seems to get great fun out of it. In Sado, the very small size of a closely-knit community obviously concurs to better preserve the spirit and the ritualistic undertones traditionally attached to the festival: in this particular hamlet, during the three days event, men are chastised by the village chief if they did not meaningfully participate in community life during the year (the punishment consists in the drinking of a large bowl of rice wine), praised if they did so (such men are by far in the minority…). Young men’s initiation is still a commonly observed feature, though the way it is followed and performed varies from place to place.

In the still recent past, several shamans (or, more frequently, she-shamans.) were living in Tafalong. There is still one of them remaining in Sado, who also plays the role of a medium catering for the needs of Han people through Taoist rituals. Underlying shamanist creeds and practices are certainly present, but they are largely covered and transformed by Christian beliefs. The Catholic community is the most numerous and active, while two Protestant churches also enjoy a significant following. The faith brought from afar has been acculturated through songs, community bonding (there is a very active Catholic old women association) and well attended Sunday services celebrated at the same time in Amis and Chinese. Parish retreats and study sessions are an important part of village life. Japanese priests preaching to the elderly in the language they have learnt during their youth come to Tafalong once every year.

The term "kawas" refers at the same time to the Christian God and to the gods of the Amis tradition. Therefore, the shaman is usually called "Sikawasay", meaning the One who possesses a god. Spirits, demons and guardian angels are regularly invoked during all rituals. The invocation to the Ancestors is a basic part of traditional Amis rituals, and it is common to see Amis people offering some alcohol to the pictures of latter generation ancestors adorning the walls of their house, muttering to them a rapid prayer if they fear that trouble is brewing or that they have somehow behaved improperly. At the same time, the stress on ancestors and on their watchful presence is assimilated into Christianity without too much ado, especially by the Catholics, more accommodating in that respect than their protestant brethren.

Photo: B.V.
Wednesday, 26 November 2008 23:38

The Tafalong Project

“On the fifth day the sea tide rose…”



What happens exactly from the first to the fourth day? The song does tell us the events that unfolded before the big tide’s rise, allowing Kariwasan to take Tiamacan away, but, still, the chronology starts with this disjunctive event – as if only the recollection of total chaos could help one to create some kind of order within time and space. At some point, you have to start counting, but you do know that the Primordial Tale cannot truly speak of the Origin of the origins, that there is always a first day before the first. So, why not starting with the fifth one?

In the same vein, it is hard to say how the Tafalong movie exactly took shape. For sure, there was an encounter between Nakao Eki and the Ricci Institute. Nakao has spent the year 2008 working on an oral history project sponsored by the Institute with the help of “WeShare” Foundation. At some point (but when exactly?), it appeared to me that Nakao’s narrative was the stuff of a great documentary, in a way that would complement and enrich her writings and drawings, telling the same and yet a very different story. Renlai monthly and erenlai.com, both published by the Ricci Institute, were also trying to improve their skills in movie making, and had asked Nicolas Priniotakis to guide them in filming and editing a full-fledged production. Tafalong village was chosen most naturally as the perfect setting for this endeavour. I stayed in Tafalong several times between March and July 2008, and witnessed Nakao struggling with a project that was reaching far deeper than a mere academic fieldwork would have done. At the end of July, Cerise, Nicolas, Nakao and I gathered in Tafalong, also filming in the adjacent Fata’an township and Sado hamlet. We were joined in this adventure by Ta-cheng (Nakao’s cousin), several of their relatives, and other members of the Ricci team.

But is it really the way it happened? The “origins” of the movie reach far deeper anyway, and the more we advanced into production, the farther we went into the past: Nakao had to find her way into her own memories. We were sometimes dealing with a place (two places actually, discovering the strategic importance of the hamlet of Sado, the stronghold of Nakao’s extended family), sometimes with a clan or a family, sometimes with recollections linked to personal burning events. At some points, we were having a glimpse on the rise of the giant tide, but we could sense that the surge of the ocean was happening “on the fifth day”, that the tide would have not risen if there was not the mysterious unfolding of events from the unknown first day till the fourth…

So, the Tafalong project is not about a person, a place or a clan. It is about all of these and yet about something different. It is about the way memories – memories shared by and divided among individuals, villages and families – are told, re-enacted, slowly digested or suddenly cried out at the face of the earth, memories that obscure and illuminate the present, and that bless or curse the future… From the start, without us actually knowing it, the project was about the tides that endlessly shape, erode and engulf our mental universe.

On the fifth day the sea tide rose…” : There are the giant tides of the hidden, remotest past, there are the tides that have shaped the history of Taiwan and the Amis people during the last four hundred years, there are the endless sea currents experienced in the course of the most eventful twentieth century, there are the tides that unite and divide families, there are also the tides (insignificant and yet sometimes devastating) surging in the soul of the one who relate anew to the people and the lineage she comes from… and in this movie, there is also, on the shore of the Pacific, a real tide, the tide that takes away a beloved one and thus reawakens memories of the floods that engulfed people’s life in time past…
 

Drawing by Nakao Eki

 
 
Wednesday, 26 November 2008 22:43

Moganshan Road

The oral history of illiterate aboriginal peoples is remarkable, not only for its elaborate content, but for the way it has been passed down by memory from generation to generation. It certainly puts to shame those who consider themselves as civilized and superior.

There are several kinds of narrative. Some are based on accounts of events that actually happened. They commemorate persons who actually lived, glorifying or vilifying those involved. Quite possibly the things they say and did are elaborated and exaggerated to reflect the judgment of history. Why were the stories told? As mere entertainment in times when there were no books or as lessons intended to pass on the moral values and traditions or to instill pride and a sense of identification in the deeds of the clan or nation or tribe?

Some of the oral material is mythological, not describing events or persons that were witnessed and the news passed on, but attempts to visualize and explain what was shrouded in obscurity: the origin or creation of the world, the appearance of the first humans, the mysteries of fire, weather, disease, life and death and the realization that somehow humans are dependent upon some unseen powers that seem to reward and punish and require acknowledgement and sacrifice.

Myths are not history, neither are they strictly fiction. They are symbolic attempts to make sense out of reality. How literally were these myths believed by those who listened to them we will never know, but we do know that they built real temples to honor and worship and ask for protection from the deities their myths commemorated.

There is also the possibility that some of the oral material was merely for entertainment, stories invented to amuse or instruct without any claim to authenticity or real events, like the Canterbury Tales.

The big civilizations had the advantage of written language. But I doubt that the myths and stories about times ancient to them began with someone writing on parchment or inscribing on stone. They were not original to their transcribers but what had been passed on orally for years before first being recorded. We should be grateful to those scribes who preserved the material so that we can enjoy and learn from their insights.

But there are still today “primitive” aboriginal tribes and cultures who still pass on orally the traditions and legends and beliefs of their people. But as the traditional ways are dying out and the cultures fading away into oblivion as civilization claims victim after victim to modernization, fewer and fewer of the storytellers are surviving, so that unless more efforts are made to record what they know, those oral histories and narratives and theologies and sciences and philosophies and pharmacies will be lost forever.

So what? Who cares? These losses don’t spell the end of civilization or threaten the survival of humankind, but they represent unique achievements of the human spirit. To compose these narrations and preserve in memory from generation to generation of storytellers is a truly superior human task.

It seems so strange to me how upset some people become when something seems to threaten the extinction of some rare inhuman species, but feel absolutely no concern for the impending demise of some human culture. I am not at all advocating the preservation of those cultures by isolating and keeping those peoples locked in their primitive, traditional ways, but we should at least show enough respect for their humanity and individuality to preserve the memory of their achievements and traditions.

Modern day scientists have the relics of archaeology and the fossilized remains of creatures that once roamed the earth. There will be no fossils of the oral histories of lost cultures, but we still have time to record those that still exist before they too are lost forever.

Here is a fable I wrote about the origin of an historical narrative handed down through the centuries.

+++++++++++++++++++++

The Origin of An Epic

Once upon a time there was an ancient civilization that was very proud of its achievements. One day the king and his advisors were sitting around in the council chamber sipping wine and nibbling on some fruit and tidbits of food that their slaves were providing when a discussion arose about a recent battle they are victoriously won. One of the men began to recount his part in the battle, when he was interrupted by another.

“You’re wrong,” he said, “I was there and that’s not the way it happened.” Soon the whole meeting was in an uproar, each one trying to convince the others that things had happened his way.

Finally the king intervened. “No one is ever going to believe anything you say if you cannot agree on small details. From now on, the official version will be mine, the one that glorifies most the royal power and our local heroes and gods. What we should be discussing is how to memorialize this victory so that future generations will remember our exploits. Do you have any suggestions?”

“We could build an arch of triumph with scenes of the battle carved on it. Or a tall obelisk in the center of the market square carved with a narrative of the whole battle depicted on its sides.”

“But what’s the use of such a high structure? Anything above eyelevel will not be seen clearly enough.”

“We can build a temple with statues of the principal personages or paint murals on a long wall depicting the entire history of the battle.”

“Well,” replied the King, “those are excellent ideas which we can and will bring to reality. It doesn’t matter what is carved high up on an arch or obelisk. Anyone who sees them even from afar will be reminded of the victory they commemorate. Marble statues in a temple will carry our images down through time. Painted scenes on a wall can insure that each one of us gets his share of the spotlight.

“But there is one fundamental limitation in all these schemes. They are local. One has to be right here to see them. So far as the rest of the world is concerned they are out of sight and out of mind. What we need is something to make us household words, heroes known to everyone everywhere. What I propose is we hire some poet storyteller, some creator of epics like Homer to compose a masterpiece of literature that will spread throughout the world and be repeated to every generation to be memorized and told wherever the common people cannot read or do not possess books.”

What the King proposed was unanimously seconded by all the council, but what was so easily decided upon was very difficult to accomplish. Choosing the right band of writers wasn’t easy, neither was it easy to compose verses and include details of episodes that could be agreed upon by those who had taken part in them. By the time the epic was completed most of those it memorialized had passed on to the next life where they could no longer make objections or add amendments. Now there is no part of the world that has not heard of them.

There are lessons hidden here.

The epic that was produced
reflected all the king and his council wanted everyone to know,
so it glorifies the good and vilifies the bad.
It should be read with caution:
the good were probably not as good, nor the bad quite as bad.

Still it commemorates events that were truly great
and presents models of what to do and not to do
in similar circumstances.

Facts and figures appeal to few and are quickly forgotten.
Elaborate stories told in terms
that stir the imagination with graphic imagery
remain forever as fond recollections and significant lessons.

Attached media :
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Wednesday, 26 November 2008 22:38

卑南覓的夜殺

時間:東福島‧十七世紀
那圍繞著異族聽聞與黃金冒險而展開的年代
彼得想起夢中那聲淒厲的叫喊,那是他的好友衛色林的聲音。

山地從面向大洋的平原背後一路蜿蜒攀高,與那之後層層疊疊的高大山脈連成一氣,在下弦月高掛的夜裡形成一片深深的暗影。彼得潘中尉好像剛剛失過神一樣,突然警醒著環顧四周,發現自己置身在暗夜的山林邊緣。

「這是…」中尉抬起頭望向眼前這片山地,然後朝自己伸出左手。他的手心在微弱的月光下看起來毫無真實感,好像就快要被那淺淺的光亮給穿透了,呈現一種極不自然的慘白。他望著自己的手掌,很努力想要記起自己身在何方,可是他什麼也想不起來,只隱約感覺自己來到這裡有一樁重要的任務。他再次望著眼前的緩坡和那之後高聳的暗影,深深的吸了一口氣,朝著他直覺中的方向走去。經過一段明顯被人踐踏出小徑的長草之後,走進了視野完全被黑暗所吞噬的森林裡。
中尉在森林中十分努力的保持耳朵警覺,不過這森林裡除了黑暗以外什麼也沒有,沒有蟲聲,也沒有鳥聲,四面是一片死寂,他只能憑著直覺在森林中摸索前進。不知道走了多久,螢火蟲從他左右的樹間升起,形成一整片迷離的螢光煙霧,頗有阻撓他繼續前行的態勢。中尉在那裡停下了腳步,感覺到煙霧的另一邊不遠處有人聲。他儘量彎著腰隱身到樹叢中,瞇起眼睛細看了許久,終於看清楚了那是一群在森林邊緣集會的土著。
將近十個左右的土著站在森林外的一處空地上,圍著一個小小的營火小聲說話。中尉就著火光從繁密的枝葉間望過去,那些人的裝束打扮都很相像,修著很短的頭髮,額上繫著黑色的頭帶,赤裸上身,紮著寬鬆的綁腿褲,小腿的背側和雙腳都在褲管下裸露著,腰間掛著番刀。夜風裡跳動的火光照映上臉,他們的表情在光影之中變得既陰森又詭異。
這些人在這裡做什麼…。中尉望著那些火光中明暗不定的陌生面孔,小心克制住自己的呼吸,仔細的聽他們的對話。
「聽說他們無法到達那黃金河,」其中一個人說,「所以那人一直要求我們帶他往北方去。」
「為什麼卑南覓的人要與他們合作?」另一個人發出不滿的聲音。「這些人不過是想要黃金而已。可是我聽說了,那是只有暴雨過後才會在山谷裡出現的東西,就算是掃叭那邊的人也不確知河流究竟在哪裡。」
「掃叭?」另一個人輕蔑的笑了起來,「那個人說的是里漏呢。你忘記了嗎,之前他帶了卑南覓的六百人要去里漏,結果還沒有走到掃叭,路程中就作了不祥的夢,鳥鳴聲也不吉,他們花了很久的力氣才說服那人折返的。」
「是了,我也想起來了。」最早先的那個人說,「他之前不是說服了卑南覓的頭人要去征伐里漏?一切都準備妥當了,結果那天早晨他被鐵勾傷了腳…」
「這確實是一個不吉的徵兆…」其他人附和著,然後陷入了沉默。不久之後一個人將手按上自己的腰刀,將聲音壓得更低了:「那幾個人留在這裡將會給我們帶來難以預料的災禍。既然卑南覓的人無法抵擋他們無理的要求,不如就趁著他們在這裡的時候…」
彼得潘聽著那人漸漸低下去的話音,突然感到一陣涼意從腳底傳遍全身,麻痺了他整個後背和頭皮。他猛然想起來,他來到這裡是要尋找他的朋友衛色林。他在樹叢中試著轉頭望向有屋舍的那個方向,但剛一有動作就碰到了身邊的樹枝,發出了清晰的聲響。在他還來不及反應的時候,一道銀白色的閃光橫過他眼前,然後就是一道淒厲的尖叫劃過他的耳際。

「彼得───────」

隨後的一切變得異常模糊,他只知道自己在一片黑暗中不辨方向拼命的奔跑。泥土、碎石和雜草在他腳下發出異樣的聲響,不斷有樹枝和藤蔓打到他的臉,他感覺滾熱的鮮血從臉上和身上各處流下,隨著他狂亂的腳步往四面飛濺,他的長髮散亂了被風吹來鞭打上臉,整個臉都痛得快要失去感覺。他用雙手護住自己的頭部,緊閉著雙眼不停的奔跑。
他聽見自己粗重的喘息,聽見冷風吹過森林,一直隱身在暗夜裡的鳥類現在一邊拍著翅膀撲向他的耳朵,一邊對他發出刺耳的嚎叫。所有的聲音都變得異常巨大,他覺得自己的耳鼓深處已經破裂滲血了。
終於因為失血過多撲倒在森林邊緣時,他張開了雙眼。卑南覓的平原在眼前的山下展開,遠方的海洋顯得非常靜謐,在月光下微微搖晃著,這景色在他模糊的視線中全都染上了詭異的顏色。然後他感到有人在他腰部重重踹了一腳,將他踢翻了仰躺在地。他發出沉重的呻吟,望著那一點真實感都沒有的人影,清楚看到那影子背後的森林不斷朝他逼進,將他壓得喘不過氣來。森林聚攏了朝他逼進,發出颯颯颯的聲響,兇猛的撲向他的身體。他直直的瞪視著森林的影子,指尖微微抽搐,然後他的身體慢慢的涼了。
------------------------------

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Wednesday, 26 November 2008 22:29

十七世紀東福島

時間:東福島‧十七世紀
那圍繞著異族聽聞與黃金冒險而展開的年代

這是一則偶然捏造的故事,主角是一名彼得潘(Pieter Boon),他和故事中出現的其他荷蘭人衛色林(Maerten Wesselingh)、特勞丹紐(Traudenius)、范陵哈(Johan Van Linga),以及西班牙人波提羅(Portillo),都是歷史上確曾活過的人。故事的基礎是以下的史料記載:

‧一六三八年二月,來自哥本哈根的高級醫師兼下席商務員衛色林被派駐卑南覓(今台東),學習當地語言,試圖與當地人建立友誼。此後衛色林經常奉命往返大員與卑南覓,以尋金為主要活動,甚至曾在一六三一年二、三月左右自卑南覓北上,據推測,他該次旅程所到之處,可能位於現在的豐濱鄉。(DZII-A, p.7及同頁註30)

‧一六四一年九月,消息傳回熱蘭遮城,衛色林與兩名士兵及一名翻譯員被大巴六九及呂家望兩社土著殺害。(DZIIA, p.7)

‧一六四二年一月十一日,大員長官特勞丹紐親自率領三五三人的軍隊前往卑南覓,為衛色林復仇。一月二十二日大軍抵達卑南覓,二十四日即行攻打大巴六九及呂家望,將兩社殲滅後,村落予以焚燬。(DZII-A, p.13)

大巴六九(Tamalakaw)和呂家望(Rikavong)都是卑南族部落,位於現在的台東縣卑南鄉,現「利嘉林道」所在之地,大巴六九山則是台東市背後的那片山地。


一六四一年(註1)九月是個令人難耐的月份。突如其來的颱風在月初襲擊福島南部,數日不斷的豪雨造成大員灣海水暴漲,一時之間大員沙洲似乎有被淹沒之虞,使大員的荷蘭人全都籠罩在一片憂慮之中。然後,這來得莫名其妙的颱風在九月十日凌晨頃刻間便消失得無影無蹤。
連日來聽慣了風雨聲的彼得潘中尉(註2)此刻從夢中驚醒了。他披上外衣走到窗口向外眺望,在整齊排列的低矮屋舍上方,一彎新月高掛在午夜剛過的天頂,厚重的雲層不知何時已經全部退到極西的水平線上,在微弱的月光下反映出深藍紫色的光暈,隱約透露出一絲令人不安的訊息。
第二天早晨,中尉如往常般面見大員長官特勞丹紐。當他們正在商議要如何對付固守雞籠島要塞的西班牙人時,一名衣衫襤褸全身都是傷痕和泥巴的士兵被人扶了進來(註3)。
「長官…」這名年輕的娃娃臉士兵拉扯著顯然淋過大雨又被烈日曝曬過的一頭亂髮,按耐不住似地喊叫出來:「衛色林在卑南覓被當地人殘酷的殺害了!」
站在特勞丹紐桌邊的彼得潘中尉睜大了眼睛望著這士兵,一時之間竟不能會意過來。
「四天前的深夜,大巴六九社的人不知出於什麼原因,竟然趁夜將衛色林砍死在森林裡。我僥倖逃了出來,是從卑南岬沿海的山路奔回來的。路上遇到颱風,我險些落海,又摔傷了腿,因此耽誤了行程…」士兵說著,聲音漸漸低了下去,隨即昏倒在特勞丹紐的門口。
傷兵被抬出去的同時,另一名士兵走了進來,一臉不安的將一封背面用鮮紅色蠟漆封妥的信遞到中尉手中。中尉低頭看了這薄薄的文件,回頭對特勞丹紐說,「長官,這是西班牙人送來的。」
特勞丹紐臉色陰沉的點頭,於是中尉拆開這封信,輕聲唸了起來:

致大員長官:我等確已於今年八月二十六日收到閣下信函。依良善基督宗徒應守之律法,及業在我國國王前所設之誓言,我在此回覆,我既不願亦不敢交出閣下所要求者,亦即這座城堡,且我與我方人馬皆已決志抵禦。我慣見大批敵軍,在法郎德(Flanders)等地亦有過數次此等戰役經驗。請閣下勿再勞煩寫信為如此要求。且讓各人各自備防。吾等係信仰基督之西班牙人,所信仰的上帝自會庇佑我們。願神保全你們。
  
寫於主要塞聖救主城
一六四一年九月六日
波提羅(註4)

彼得潘中尉輕輕的將這封字跡工整非常禮貌的信放在特勞丹紐桌上,不過並沒有看著他的長官。他早就已經知道,驅逐西班牙人的戰爭終究難免。如今衛色林死了,雖然並不清楚他的長官作何感想,但對他來說,這筆帳勢必要算在西班牙人頭上。早幾年熱蘭遮城也曾派員前往高山的另一邊,去尋找傳說中的黃金河,但每次繞過卑南岬要往北前進總是遇到諸多困難。福島東部的海路非常險惡,一旦遇到惡劣的天候海象,連補給都立刻成為問題,因此拿下西班牙人的領土,由北海岸前往傳說中的黃金河,就成為探金事業的唯一可能了。
前幾年范陵哈上尉率領三艘戎克船前往卑南一帶探金,千辛萬苦自當地人探得口風,說在卑南覓以北進入谷地約三日半路程之處,有一盛產黃金的河流,但路程中的聚落全都與卑南覓居民處在敵對狀態下,因此卑南人並不樂意為范陵哈領路。是因為這樣,有著高深化學知識的衛色林才會以商務員的身份被派遣常駐卑南覓,一邊學習當地語言,一邊試著與當地人建立友誼。
「若不是因為西班牙人盤距雞籠島和淡水,我們早就可以從北方前往谷地,也許現在已經發現了黃金河,不必冒險將衛色林派駐在卑南覓,他也不會這樣不明不白的死了。」中尉想著,但他沒有出聲。他已經回過神來,在靜靜等候長官特勞丹紐做出進一步的指示。

即將攻打西班牙人的消息傳出,整個熱蘭遮城突然都被一種緊張氣氛所籠罩,暑熱也在這一天正午過後攀升達於極點。暫時了結公務之後的彼得潘中尉抱著重重心事,冒著烈日去探視那名報訊的傷兵,卻很遺憾的聽說了這士兵因為感染瘧疾已是命在旦夕。

註釋

註1 據中譯本《熱蘭遮城日記》第二冊譯者序的說明,1641年的《熱蘭遮城日記》現僅存4月11日關於福島首度舉行地方會議(Landdag)的摘錄記載,其餘均已佚失。
註2 關於Pieter Boon,較常被引述提及的是他於1643年帶隊展開的尋金冒險行動(詳下則故事)。不過1641年時他的軍階還是中尉,到1643年才升為上尉見DZII-B,p.21註7。
註3 《熱蘭遮城日記》中收錄大員長官致總督的信件(1641年11月6日),其中提到,9月12日有一士兵自卑南覓捎訊前來,通知衛色林及兩名士兵和一名譯員已被殺害,但此外並未再提及這名報訊士兵(DZII-A, p.7)。
註4 譯自:José Borao, Spaniards in Taiwan, I, p.326.

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Wednesday, 26 November 2008 22:19

書寫歷史的真實力量

只有親身活過那段往事的人的感受最是真實。我說,或許我們還是應該往文學的想像裡尋找書寫歷史的力量。

我的主角就這樣肢離破碎的死了。我看著他許久之後也沉默的離去。我轉身走開的時候,深夜的天空還在繼續飄著雪。我豎起衣領仰頭望去,異國的雪花確實毫不曖昧的跳著冰冷的迴旋舞。我的主角曾經問過,為什麼他要在這樣的場景下被通知弟弟的死訊。我沒有什麼像樣的話可以回答。我想,也許單純只是因為那本不是他所喜歡的場景。
我帶著一點空虛感離開,然後來到我的女教授的研究室外。我的女教授是個非常苛刻的人,有一張瘦長的臉,和令我不期然聯想起北海道愛奴人的髮色。他總是戴著一副細邊眼鏡。每次他透過那薄得有點過份的鏡片盯著我看,追問我荒廢已久的進度時,我都很想反問他是否其實視力正常,否則那麼薄的鏡片看來實在不像是能發揮任何作用的樣子。
我不知道自己為什麼會一路走到他的研究室門口。要能夠來到這裡,我必然經過了樓下的大門和這一樓層的刷卡檢查,但我一點也不記得自己有經過這些關卡,也不記得有聽到過刷卡時那刺耳的嗶嗶聲。而且深夜裡這棟大樓也太暗了,我到底是怎樣安然走到這邊,卻沒有撞到影印機或走廊上的置物櫃及書架呢。
我想起我和女教授第二天早晨還有約會,我得向他報告進度。我想我應該要先回到住處去洗個熱水澡,把自己泡在浴缸裡,讓蒸氣麻痺我的頭腦,釋放我的意識,然後把握最後一點時間,躲入溫暖的棉被睡一場好覺。可是我有點太累了。我在女教授研究室門口漫無目的轉了幾個圓圈,在黑暗中伸手用力磨擦自己凍僵的臉。最後我將厚重的外衣全部卸下,抱著那一團毛料在他門前柔軟的地毯上睡著了。
之後我作了一個過度清晰的夢。夢中跟我的女教授進行了一場漫長的談話,幾乎耗盡了大半個下午的時光。我在被書籍全面包圍,連窗戶也沒有的研究室裡,與他辯論勾勒歷史的方法。像我的主角反抗我一樣,我不斷的反抗他想要勸服我的學院理想。我說,所謂的歷史不過就是許多人熱切或絕望著活過的當下。除了去把握那流逝了的每一刻裡承載過的悲哀、憤怒、愉快或是幸福,我們再也沒有其他的方法可以描繪出過往的真實。真實只是一種莫名所以的感受,不管有多少看待往事的觀點同時存在,只有親身活過那段往事的人的感受最是真實。我說,或許我們還是應該往文學的想像裡尋找書寫歷史的力量。
最後我與女教授不歡而散。我戴上帽子禮貌的告辭,臨去時感謝他撥空給我寶貴的意見。我走下大樓背面狹小的鐵板安全梯,穿過假日裡非常冷清的穿堂,在厚重的玻璃門前繫好圍巾,然後深吸一口氣,推開門走進了一片白茫茫的雪地裡。
這個夏天裡充滿綠意的廣場現在是一片死寂。本來修剪得很整齊的草坪現在完全被白雪覆蓋,高大的路樹無一例外的如災民一般乾癟,他們的枝幹空蕩蕩的在我頭上交錯,一點也不能阻擋新雪繼續飄落我的肩膀。
我的靴子在被踩成堅冰的雪地上發出喀吱喀吱困頓的聲音,我聽著那個聲音,像著了迷一般低頭看著自己的靴子,跟著自己的腳步不斷的走著,直到被一道石階阻住去路,才抬頭看清了自己不知何時已經來到鎮上的天主堂前。陰霾的天空底下,小小的石造的灰色教堂在枯枝與白雪的襯托下因為看來孤單而顯得有些古怪。
教堂裡十分黝暗,每一排座椅都是空的,視線盡頭的聖壇前,有人站在玻璃花窗灑下的微弱光亮裡練習唱歌。我站在教堂陰暗的入口處,在厚重的門前聽著這個聲音。似乎有些飄渺的聲音,在空蕩蕩的教堂裡引發某種類似共鳴的情感。

Panis angelicus fit panis hominum
天使之糧成了人類的食糧…

歌聲忽遠忽近,始終那麼渺茫。於是我閉上眼睛,落入了一片沉穩的黑暗。

Te trina Deitas unaque poscimus
三位一體的神 我們請求你……

我在黑暗裡看到許多模糊的東西向我伸出手,不斷試著要抓住我的頭髮。那些手在空中扭曲著,好像要把什麼古怪的意念透過抓取的動作植入我腦中。  我的目光停留在那些手上。不是因為我很樂意看他們,只是始終無法移開自己的視線。我彷彿被釘牢在那些詭異的影像上,一邊望著他們一邊感覺到自己的髮根都硬了起來,些微的麻木感像螞蟻瘟疫般從頭頂往下移動蔓延,爬滿了我整個腰背,爬過我的臀部和大腿,直到腳後跟。我的身體在厚重的衣物下,因為那不知名的什麼東西而一點一點的發冷。

Per tuas semitas duc nos quo tendimus,
引領我們隨著你的道路去尋
Ad lucem quam inhabitas.
你所居住的光明

寒凍感令我猛然睜開雙眼。同樣是在視線的盡頭,聖壇前空無一人,人聲已經淡去,窗口依舊透進些微的光亮。在那光亮所及之外,還隱約可見十字架和某種模糊的形影。

附加的多媒體:
{rokbox}media/articles/tafalong_D_histoire.jpg{/rokbox}
Wednesday, 26 November 2008 22:15

惡靈年代的尾聲

惡靈在每個枝頭埋伏著,等待著
直到不知多久以前某個濱海悶熱的夏天
趕趕樹的花都謝了,
然後結滿了不祥的果實

【孿生弟弟勒卡兒】當我企圖逃亡的時候,惡靈殺死了勒卡兒,然後從背後攫住了我,永久的奪去了我的靈魂。我在與我無關的世界裡沉沒下去,連氣泡都沒有的沉沒了。

在這個世界上,如果有誰能夠使我的靈魂完整,或者使我的靈魂破碎,那必定是我的孿生弟弟勒卡兒(Lkal)。我不知道他為什麼會被取了這樣一個名字。就我所知,我們村子中不曾有人叫做勒卡兒,因此他的命名由來對我而言一直是個謎。
直到後來我才想到,或許是因為我們是雙生子吧。在加走灣我們的村子裡,雙生子是惡的象徵。就像雙生的趕趕沒有人敢吃,長著相似面容的雙生子也沒有人願意親近。或許也是基於同樣的原因,不曾有誰加意責怪過身為哥哥的我,但無意間成為弟弟的他卻被取了這樣的名字。
勒卡兒──吶喊。
儘管如此,我卻像愛著大洋那樣愛著我的弟弟勒卡兒。失去父母之後,我們的少年時代幾乎陷入完全的孤立當中。村子裡的耳語說,惡靈跟隨我們的腳蹤,在夜裡進入屋中殺死了我們的父母。在那充滿了禁忌惡靈肆虐的年代,每當我的眼角餘光注意到有人刻意繞過走在路中間的我們,我總是緊緊握住勒卡兒的手。我總是覺得有人在背後指指點點。他們當中必定有人在說,雙生子中理當有一個人要死去。兩個人以雙生子的身份開始活的那一刻,就是噩運的開始。
「哥哥,好痛了我的手。」等我們走到無人的地方時,勒卡兒才會輕聲的提醒我。
我握得太用力了。
勒卡兒是我的影子,勒卡兒是我的靈魂。在彷彿永無止盡被孤立的歲月裡,勒卡兒是我寄託心的地方。我特別喜歡他的眼睛。勒卡兒的眼白非常白,即使在已經成為少年人以後,還是像小孩子一般帶著水藍色。勒卡兒的眼睛裡裝著海洋。我的眼睛裡沒有海洋,卻住著勒卡兒。
要到了這麼久之後我才明白過來,我的眼睛裡從來都只住著勒卡兒。可是當我終於能夠看清自己的時候,勒卡兒已經消失了。那很像我們少年時代一起看過的海面上的流星。沒有月亮的夜裡,非常燦爛的流星。流星滑過天空,照亮了我眼前的勒卡兒,當他落入遙遠的海面,我眼前的勒卡兒也隨之暗去,隱沒在大洋波濤的深夜裡。

長久以來,我以為自己再也沒有去回想那些事了。如果不是因為被通知了勒卡兒自殺的消息,我大概也不會記起吧。我不是很明白,為什麼會在雪夜強風過境的時候被通知了勒卡兒的死訊。突然間我有點想不起來,自己究竟是怎樣來到這個冬天會飄雪的地方。
走入深夜的雪地之後,我的耳朵和雙手很快就凍僵了。站在雪地裡超市的停車場前,望著被推到路邊比人還高的大雪堆,和雪堆背後的超市所透出的明亮燈光,突然間我覺得膝蓋無法支撐全部的體重,就這樣在路邊坐了下來。就在那一刻我彷彿看見當年的勒卡兒。雖然事隔這樣多年,當我忍不住再去回想,還是無法不記起他紅著雙眼朝我臉上揮拳打來的模樣。
勒卡兒重重打了我一拳,將我打倒在地,然後頭也不回的轉身從我眼前離去。我也想要張口呼喊,可是喉嚨是啞的,沒有辦法發出任何聲音。我只能一直這樣坐著,直到勒卡兒消失在路的另一端。
我只能這樣坐著。雪片飄進我的衣領,隨著我的體溫而融化,然後慢慢流過胸口。我的胸中是空洞的。我的孿生弟弟勒卡兒,他就是我的靈魂,而我使我的靈魂永遠的破碎了。

我是這樣背叛了勒卡兒。也許從我懷著焦躁的心情看待勒卡兒的時候開始,我就已經背叛了他。在那之前,每一次勒卡兒回應我的叫聲而轉過頭來的時候,我看到他裝著海洋的眼睛,胸口都會感受到海潮的衝撞。我曾經多麼安心的看著勒卡兒,在他的凝視之下我從不曾感到恐懼,然而不知從什麼時候開始,惡靈的眼睛在我背後窺伺,每當我從勒卡兒身旁走過,惡靈就使我的膝蓋不由自主的發抖。
有一天晚餐過後,我和勒卡兒像往常一樣併肩在屋後清洗物件。我低頭洗著碗,並且偷偷的瞄向勒卡兒。
勒卡兒正在看我。這使我焦慮得將碗摔碎在地上。
我不知道為什麼會失手將碗摔在地上,摔碎了碗之後也無法動彈。勒卡兒看了我一眼,然後蹲下去撿拾那些破碎的陶片。他用手把那些碎片聚集起來,將他們全部捧去扔在屋邊的石臼裡。一些碎碴割傷了他的手,細小的血珠從他的手上紛紛冒出來,形成某種詭異的會顫動的圖形。他轉過身來,站在門口望著我。我的嘴唇有些發抖。我想起當年他被溪邊的小石子割傷的事,那時我毫不猶豫的拉起他的手。
我跟勒卡兒對望著。最後我走去握住他的手,牽著他穿過趕趕樹和一整片長草地,來到沒有月亮的海邊。我把勒卡兒的手放在嘴邊,用我自己的嘴唇去確認沒有碎片遺留在他的手裡,然後在海水裡洗淨他的雙手。
我們在玉石灘上坐了許久,然後像童年時代一樣牽著手衝進海洋的深處,讓海浪撲上我們,洗淨我們因為他人的恐懼輕視而不幸贏得的所有傷口。非常燦爛的流星滑過暗色的天空,照亮了我眼前的勒卡兒,然後勒卡兒隨著流星隱沒在黑夜裡。我的眼睛看不見勒卡兒,但是我感覺得到他像大洋一樣情感波動的胸口。
那是我最後一次和勒卡兒在海中如童年那般追逐著彼此。

我還是像愛著大洋一樣愛著我的弟弟勒卡兒。我只是想要擺脫惡靈的追逐,卻被惡靈牢牢攫在手中。每當入睡之後,就有各種各樣的聲音來敲打我的頭顱。我們聽到了,我們看到了,就連你的心我們也不會放過。那些聲音不斷反覆的說著,直到恐懼把我打倒為止。有一天夜裡又從夢中驚醒的時候,我終於伸手推開了急忙靠過來查看的勒卡兒。
我就這樣背叛了勒卡兒,試著將他從我眼底抹去。加走灣再也不是我和勒卡兒共度少年時光的故鄉,卻變成困苦和錯誤的同義詞。我拼命向無關的人群伸出手,幻想著有誰可以將我帶走。那長達近三十公里的玉石灣岸在我的記憶裡失去了明亮的日光,被惡靈一口吞噬了。

那一年我離開了加走灣,離開了勒卡兒,一個人來到花蓮港(Kalingko)。這裡沒有人會刻意繞過我,也沒有小孩子會朝我丟時間果。在花蓮的那幾年,我漸漸忘記了勒卡兒被鄰居的小孩用時間果和石頭砸中額頭的往事。
勒卡兒向前撲倒在我身上,鮮血從他柔軟的頭髮裡不斷流下,把他的臉孔染紅了。
「哥哥,衣服髒掉了。」勒卡兒睜大了眼睛望著我。
我緊緊的抱住勒卡兒。那些惡靈般的小孩在我們身後吵鬧著,但他們的呼喊聲似乎愈來愈遠。在大人跑過來之前,我始終緊緊的抱住勒卡兒,把他的額頭壓在我的胸口。
有人刺穿了我的心。當他變涼的時候,是勒卡兒溫熱的血流過我的胸口。

勒卡兒從加走灣來看我的時候,他看到的已經不再是當年那個會緊抱住他的哥哥。他看到的是我擁抱著的別人。
那一天,我追著勒卡兒到街上,我伸手去拉他,但是他回身重重打了我一拳,將我打倒在地。
正午的豔陽照著我。在街的那一端勒卡兒最後消失的地方,兩旁整齊排列的日式屋舍在我的視線裡彷彿即將蒸發一般扭曲著。我本來可以追上去,但是我沒有。勒卡兒走出視線之後,我就張開雙臂躺倒在炙熱的路面上,不再看他了。我閉上眼睛的時候,眼前是一片白熱的光亮。我的背被烈火灼傷了,可是我的心是涼的。
那一天,沒有誰刺穿我的心。是我自己將心拋棄了。我再也沒有像以前那樣緊緊抱住勒卡兒。
我張開雙臂在烈日下迎接的不過是空無而已。

丟失了這一切之後,我再也沒有告訴任何人我有一個孿生弟弟勒卡兒,我曾經住在有趕趕樹生長的灣岸,在我和勒卡兒出生的那年夏天,村子裡有許多趕趕都結著雙生的果實。
我沒有再用我和勒卡兒共通的語言說過任何一句話,就這樣拋棄了一切,隨著海船去了比花蓮更遙遠的地方,最後落腳在另一個有港灣的城市。我好像隨著海潮從南國漂來的棋盤腳種子,在某個暗夜的港邊偷偷的生長,在深夜裡開著散漫的穗花,試圖用末端微弱的螢光照亮自己的靈魂,卻只是照亮了空無的深處。

我在與我無關的世界裡沉沒下去,連氣泡都沒有的沉沒了。

我抬頭望著高大的雪堆,不知道什麼時候起那後面的燈光已經熄滅,雪堆在深夜裡變成暗淡的顏色。我努力的爬進雪堆,拼命的往那深處擠進去。我在雪堆裡面。在誰都看不見我,我也看不見任何東西的地方,將雪一把一把的往自己口中塞去,把所有的冰冷都一點也不遺漏的吞了下去,發出啊啊啊啊的悶喊。我在雪堆裡好像羞於見人一般用手遮住自己的臉。在沒有人會看到我的時刻,我遮住了自己的臉。我背叛了勒卡兒,在那之後,不管擁抱著誰,我都沒有擁抱到任何東西。也許我不是沒有想過要再像以前那樣緊緊的抱住勒卡兒,但是那些念頭被我一一肢解,埋進加走灣的玉石灘,拋進花蓮港的大浪,沉入大洋的最深處。
我想起了勒卡兒的臉,於是我在雪堆裡拼命的打著自己。這張扭曲的臉是我自己,我始終無能叫出聲來的吶喊是勒卡兒。我在雪堆裡摀住自己的眼睛,在一片黑暗中永無止盡的凝視著我的勒卡兒。
我和勒卡兒出生的那一年夏天,加走灣的村子裡有許多趕趕樹都結著雙生的果實。雙生子是惡的象徵,注定要被惡靈尾隨。我和勒卡兒在惡靈之鄉彼此依靠,我把我的心寄託在他那裡。當我企圖逃亡的時候,惡靈殺死了勒卡兒,然後從背後攫住了我,永久的奪去了我的靈魂。我曾經非常誠實的愛著我的弟弟勒卡兒,但從我不再誠實的那一刻起,我只是活在刻意為自己編織的謊言裡。我終於開始了解,少年時代和勒卡兒一起站在溪邊的時候他說過的話。
「時光好像溪流中間的水。若是沒有特別留意,你看不到他在流動。」
失去了寄託心的地方,靈魂破碎之後的我,畢竟只能在一片黑暗裡看著時光從我眼前流過。我在無盡的寒冷中想著我就要這樣漸漸老去了。如果現在我被開來的車撞死了,解剖者會發現我的胸口是空洞的。我的心已經在那一年被我親手埋葬了。在那之後,不管還會活著多久,我都將繼續活在那個充滿禁忌惡靈肆虐的年代。我想,我再也不會回到加走灣去了。這個世界不管哪裡都已經沒有我可以安身的地方。惡靈抱住了我,已經沒有任何人可以鬆開惡靈的手臂,帶我回到玉石遍布明亮的灣岸。
我用滅火器打破了超市的窗戶。警報器瘋狂響起的時候,我撿起玻璃片慢慢的切割自己,用鮮血在雪地上塗滿了吶喊。
我在自己手中一點一點破碎下去。這些黏稠的東西,裝載過我體內所有的沉默與背叛,我要無聲無息的把他們留在這個地方。我靠在角落裡望著滿地的勒卡兒,然後撲倒在雪地裡厚厚的玻璃碎片上。我掙扎著翻身,聽到身下的玻璃碎片在耳邊發出卡卡卡茲的呻吟。
超市的燈光重新亮起來,有人隨著警笛聲的靠近圍攏到我身邊。我望著那些失焦的臉孔,用他們聽不懂的語言反覆的訴說,我已經沒有靈魂了,再也不必懼怕惡靈而躲避著勒卡兒。
時光就像溪流裡的水。我躺在碎片上睜大了眼睛,就這樣看著時光慢慢流過眼前。流去吧,充滿禁忌惡靈肆虐的年代。在破碎的我和滿地的勒卡兒中間,除了不斷流動的時光以外,終於再也沒有任何別的東西。

附加的多媒體:
{rokbox}media/articles/tafalong_D_Lkal.jpg{/rokbox}

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