我意识到这个社会并不需要太多的创造者，
只需要一颗颗精准运转的螺丝钉。
我失去了方向，
仿佛飘浮在某种无形的真空里。
过去的一个月里，
唯一让我在茫然中唯一坚持下来的事，
是将我最喜欢的书翻译成英文。
它成了我唯一能握住的锚点，
在一切都漂浮不定的时候，
给了我一点重量。
在一切都漂浮不定的时候，
给了我一点重量。
我想起了几年前七月的一个夜晚，
我与朋友站在阿塔卡马沙漠里。
导游说，
月亮的背面永远是个谜。
因为月亮的自转与公转速度相同，
所以我们这一生
都无法看见它的另一面。
这个事实让我感到不安，
却也觉得，
那里面藏着一种说不清的浪漫。
月亮的背面永远是个谜。
因为月亮的自转与公转速度相同，
所以我们这一生
都无法看见它的另一面。
这个事实让我感到不安，
却也觉得，
那里面藏着一种说不清的浪漫。
未知是什么？
它可能是绝对的安全，也可能是彻底的危险；
可能是一块谁也找不到的庇护所，
也可能是一片寸草不生的荒漠。
袁哲生的这本书，
许多段落也是如此，
令人安慰，
也令人害怕。
原来有人曾也在黑暗里走过，
说出了我没说出口的感受。
说出了我没说出口的感受。
文字是脆弱的，
像玻璃一样轻轻一碰就会碎，
但它们却也藏着一种无声的温柔。
在他的文字里，
我意识到，
也有人站在未知的边缘，
和我一样，
害怕的同时也被吸引。
像玻璃一样轻轻一碰就会碎，
但它们却也藏着一种无声的温柔。
在他的文字里，
我意识到，
也有人站在未知的边缘，
和我一样，
害怕的同时也被吸引。
被理解的感觉，
总是令人安心，
即使那种理解，
只是悄悄藏在一页页沉默的字里。
总是令人安心，
即使那种理解，
只是悄悄藏在一页页沉默的字里。
After finishing my graduate degree,
I felt lost.
In the past month,
I’ve spent my time translating my favorite book into English.
It became the one thing I could hold on to,
when everything else felt uncertain,
the only rhythm I managed to keep.
Like an anchor in turbulent waters,
it gave me just enough weight
to keep from floating away.
I felt lost.
In the past month,
I’ve spent my time translating my favorite book into English.
It became the one thing I could hold on to,
when everything else felt uncertain,
the only rhythm I managed to keep.
Like an anchor in turbulent waters,
it gave me just enough weight
to keep from floating away.
I remembered something from a July night a couple of years ago,
When I stood in the Atacama Desert with a friend,
wrapped in a thin jacket against the cold.
the guide told us that the far side of the moon would always remain a mystery.
Because the moon's rotation is synchronized with its orbit,
we will never see its hidden face in our lifetime.
That thought unsettled me
but there was something indescribably romantic about it, too.
What is the unknown?
It could be absolute safety,
or complete danger.
It could be a shelter no one will ever find,
or a stretch of lifeless desert,
dry and endless.
It could be absolute safety,
or complete danger.
It could be a shelter no one will ever find,
or a stretch of lifeless desert,
dry and endless.
Many passages in Yuan Zhe-sheng’s book feel the same way,
they both comfort and frighten me.
Words are fragile,
like glass that could shatter at the lightest touch,
and yet within them lies a quiet kind of solace.
In his writing,
I saw traces of my own thoughts I hadn’t dared to say aloud,
proof that the fear,
and the pull,
of the unknown doesn't belong to me alone.
The feeling of being understood is always a relief,
even if that understanding is tucked away,
silently,
between the lines of a page.
even if that understanding is tucked away,
silently,
between the lines of a page.
Stage For One 寂寞的游戏