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    9/23/2007

    木头人

    我是一个木头人,出生在这无限复制的城市。
    他们需要更多的光明遮掩城市的灰暗,于是我们被制成光亮的颜色摆在各处角落。
    人的伟大在于,他们可以用别人的光彩来掩饰自己的悲凉,这种形式成了一种艺术。某个角度来说,他们得到了平衡。
     
    他第一天带我回家的路上,我终于见到了阳光,身体的颜色被它完全同化了,原来这个灰色城市还有这样明亮的东西守护着。
    我深深地吸了一口气,温暖的味道膨胀了木头的罅缝。
    在那座老旧的桥上,他把我握在手心,出了很多汗,浸湿了我,忽的,感觉自己有了生命。
     
    他喜欢在手中把玩我,打电话的时候,和朋友聊天的时候,对着电脑思考的时候...
    每次触摸和抚慰都是一股暖意游遍便全身,我就像宠物一样安然享受着,甚至开始喜欢上他手指间那淡淡的烟草味。
    沉浸在这样的日子,如同上瘾一般期待每天的相聚。幻想和他跑到屋顶看尘世流云,远行千里爬山看海。我,只是喜欢上和他在一起
     
    每天的阳光都出现又消失,我蹲坐在写字台的一角望远处的屋顶,身上布满尘土,却发现自己的颜色即将与这个城市的混凝土同化了。
    我看着他,忙碌的样子,紧锁的眉头,暴躁的情绪。偶尔抬头看了我一下,只是一眼,也让我充满期待。时间带来的是彻底的失望。
    从此,我只是静静地看着他,一言不发。
     
    那层身上的尘无从抖落,我放弃了每天那一刻的期待。世界除了灰色便是黑色,我不再抬眼看外面的阳光,开始厌恶那光线的刺眼。
     
    那天他最终又发现了我的存在,尘土已经很厚了。他用刀剥落掉尘土,也划伤了我。他摸着划痕,紧皱着眉头。然后,用力试图搓掉那道伤口,徒劳无功后便弃之而去了。
     
    木头人的可悲,在于并不拥有人那般万能的自我治愈,自我愚弄。  若伤了,那便是伤了,随之是永久伤的记忆。
    若是不想受伤,最好还是将自己沉没在安静的角落,在那层没有多少份量的尘土中保持沉默吧...
     

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