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He is like an oil lamp that will go out when the wind blows, he has no god, no lover...

- EM Foster, Maurice

Between the ages of 20 and 50, I walked all the way in the wind and sand, always half-closed my eyes, as if I could forget the pain of the sky and roughness without seeing the front clearly.Never thought that one day, the flying sand and rocks that once made me think that I would never be able to take a step forward, but in the end it became the delicate predecessors contained in the hourglass.

It's all in that bottle.Now I can only turn it over again and again, trying hard to remember the soul-stirring love and hatred before each quicksand drips away.

But, it's all over.

Quicksand slides into the narrow middle bottleneck at such a calm and balanced speed. The fear that had no exit 30 years ago finally got this thin trickle of pipes. Put your ears close, and maybe you can still hear the faint whispers among the sand grains .

This thin mouth is hard to come by. The former physical body has now transformed into the exquisite shape of the hourglass bottle. However, there is still a faint reluctance, so he can't stop turning the bottle again.

If there was a genie imprisoned in my bottle like Aladdin's lamp, now I have set the genie free.

I picked up the memory end of the thread and yanked.The back at the other end shook the pinned elbow, without looking back, and instantly fell into the soft and strong quicksand like desire and disappeared without a trace.

All kinds of people pushed and rubbed each other, and I can't remember the many faces.

How much I want to explain to the owners of the face now, after years of frantic groping and experimentation, I finally figured out that there is no juice in your flowery bodies that I want to absorb, they are just a perfect conductor, Transmitting the joy and sorrow that I don't know how to place.

About the fear of life and the lingering of death.

Because of the unintentional trust you showed when you smiled, and the momentary uneasiness that flashed in your pupils when your eyes met, it always made me want to treat you in a gentle way (as far as I know), so I used kisses to imprint the evidence of acquaintance, and embraced Secretly wipe dry on each other's lapels, the wound is still oozing quietly, lonely.

In those years when the soul became so thin that it would break at the touch of a touch, we had a short-term sublimation.

If you remember.

Between that thought, we were all brave and soft.This body is replaced by yours, and the curses, abuses and aversions of the world all turn into black mist and disperse in that thought.As long as there is such a thought, all the slander is false and demonic.

The sublimation of that second allows us to firmly ask: If that is not love, what is it?If it wasn't for love, why would the faint call from the bottom of my heart suddenly die and come back to life, becoming a clear cry?

Love is also love.

I have never doubted that every one of you is my unique and irreplaceable.

Different people make different mistakes, and the nicks left behind are also of different lengths and shades.After the first time of each occurrence, the sky of the original eternal night will be snowed, and the white snow will bury the shattered and broken footprints. In the vast tranquility, it is you who made me hear my heartbeat again.

Believe me, I have loved each and every one of you.

It's just that most of you have long since disdained the touch that happened for the first time that year.For most of you, that shocking feeling is rather ignorance, weakness, the chief culprit that caused you to be hurt continuously later, and it is a cover that must be buried so that it cannot be discovered.Have you tamed the stereotype of love, and you can't escape the perfect relationship model that has been filled in your head since childhood?And the so-called happiness is to make everyone around you satisfied?

It was originally just a mutual help and self-help among our species. How could the irrelevant world pick up sticks and chase after it? Could it be that they are not looking for the same antidote so that existence becomes less abstract and empty?Or do they prefer to lie to themselves in the void of abstraction rather than make it easier for others?

Passing through X-rays one after another for security checks forced us to take out all unspeakable dangerous desires from our luggage, otherwise we would not be able to board the plane and fly to the legendary land of happiness. The 17-year-old girl was contaminated with the man's body odor, and the siren immediately went off. A 17-year-old boy who went to a prostitute broke his body, which is a congratulatory mark of male adulthood.There is no need to make a fuss if a woman and a woman kiss and lick each other in a sex A movie, but it is called a G movie when two men caress each other.The beauties in men's clothing turn all living beings upside down, while the fake mothers in women's clothing only smile for Bojun.

Don't ask me why men and women just have to be different.Don't wonder why as long as there is a legal marriage registration, this person will have legal inhuman behaviors, beating his wife and children, becoming prostitutes and gambling are all his (her) housework.How much the world respects and tolerates the family behind closed doors, but it is difficult for us who are wandering outside, and they knock on the door whenever we have nothing to do.

Even so, how many people still made bets silently.For you that's the export, for me it's just taking stray animals off the truck and into the zoo.On the contrary, I am more envious of the elopement stories of the ancients.There is no longer any hope of the official marriage of the Ming media, no matter what kind of marriage, ethics and morality, face the high plaque with the word feudal, pull it out and throw it on the ground.

Today, the feudal class power just puts on a smiling mask and continues to patrol among us. It still keeps a close eye on all men and women, and no one is allowed to run away. It cannot escape wherever it goes, without being blessed. It can only be brainwashed by the curse of loneliness to rot.

Until today, I never really heard the murmur of the fine sand in the bottle.

My love does not need your blessing.

Even though I was in the bottle, I insisted on running towards the future every second.The best companion to elope with your soul is time.

★

I remember that in the years after I left the army, I started to meet more friends who were feeling excited and distressed like myself. One of the topics that everyone would inevitably exchange ideas on was, when was your first time?With whom?What did you do?at first--

No, it should be said that until now, this question still makes me feel very empty, and I can't help laughing.

In the continuous and tangled story of the ups and downs of love, I have long learned to make up various first offerings to make the other party happy without blushing or panting.

This is the first time I have told this secret to others.

For the first time, I discovered that two people are super happy together without talking.

This is my first New Years Eve with my lover.

You are my first lover who traveled abroad together.

You are the first B I dated for more than three months.

The first date of more than four months.six months.eight months.one year. ...The monthly numbers can continue to climb until two years becomes an upper limit that can no longer be broken.

But when you are still so young, another meaning of not being deeply involved in the world is that life is just beginning. There are so many firsts waiting in everyone's future, and everyone will not treat other firsts that have happened. It was an exchange of detailed experience, but I was very concerned about the first time of that matter.If the content is not vivid enough, someone will immediately retort: ​​This is not counted!Still want to pretend to be a virgin?Several boys gathered around and laughed and chatted in turn. As long as the topic was discussed together, everyone would concentrate, their palms were sweating secretly, but there was a hint of uncertain excitement in their eyes.

The seemingly shy but sensual question and answer, the thoughts of many insiders are circulating.

If you think there is still some market, you will not miss this good opportunity to put bait: Are you passive or active?Is it based on the situation or the visual system?Interested parties are welcome to make an appointment in private.

Those who dare to make a big statement can't hide the vicissitudes of life. Although I don't expect anyone to have any fondness for me, at least my old lady has something to say, even if it only wins a brief round of applause, it can be regarded as once again grabbing the stage focus.

As for the words, if it’s nothing more than that he had a pistol fight with other boys in junior high school, and his current partner is his first time, this kind of person is probably brainwashed by heterosexuality, and the concept of chastity is haunted, and he will always be judged afterwards Take it to criticize: Damn it is more noble like this?There is no one to deal with, but the conditions are poor. There are no real good women in the circle, so be careful not to let me meet in the sauna someday!

In the undeveloped era, the hunger and thirst for sexual knowledge is hard to find, but the channels are so limited, everyone has to be like sparrows diligently pecking at the fallen ears in the field after harvest, always hoping to collect some available information from each other's scenes , From the first time of each family, carefully figure out the love rules belonging to the circle.

The first stories were more and more bragging.As long as the words are vivid enough, no one is afraid that no one will listen, everyone has sexual fantasies that need to be satisfied.The old aunt especially likes to tell the fledgling younger brothers, the rookie who doesn't know the truth and the fake is also grateful to the seniors for teaching them all, not knowing that their life is over from now on.Believe the old aunt's kind of stuff, there have been sayings that handsome men and strong men are lucky, and they all think that they can become coffee, and if they don't sleep until handsome men, they will not give up.If I can't sleep, I always feel that it's because I'm not smart enough.Unwilling to accept fate, unwilling to be resigned to lower levels, such a lofty ambition will not bear to be punctured by others in the end.

How does the topic usually turn to "the first time"?Most likely a new face appeared at the party.As long as the beauty is above average, it is difficult to escape this initiation ceremony that seems to bring everyone closer together, but is actually closer to interrogation and obscenity.

At the beginning, I was taken to the party in such a daze, and I answered seriously when asked, although I am not sure how they defined the first time in their mouths.

Needless to say, the first time between a man and a woman is to enter into each other... But what about men and men?

I don't know how far to go to be called the first time, so I prepared several different versions later.Depending on your own mood, according to the situation and atmosphere of the day, or depending on whether there are people who care about it, you can take turns to speak, and you can always speak vividly and enjoy the guests and hosts.

In those years, I often talked nonsense. I don’t remember who was there last time, but this time I heard someone spit on me: Fart, Xiao Zhong, didn’t you say that last time, it’s promiscuous, you!

I'm certainly not promiscuous.Compared with some people's stories, I am undoubtedly insignificant.

The first time someone actually said it was when his father was drunk and unconscious... I laughed out loud on the spot.That scene was indeed too weird and low-level. When the audience fell silent due to shock, I wanted to ask one more question: How does it taste?

Some people also mentioned for the first time that their elder brother who slept in the same bed would fuck him when he became hard at night.Is it because of this that the man in his forties is still pretending to be Didi?The heterosexual elder brother vented his desire again and again until he got married and moved out. Not only did the younger brother not know that he was sexually assaulted, but he continued to look for the Gege lover who never existed?

Is the sharer too honest?Or is it self-hypnosis at all?For the first time like this, in my opinion, the degree of sentimentality is not as good as some kind of perverted provocative meaning.

It is only now that I finally understand what my question about the so-called "first time" is.

When others talk about the first time, most of them are just stating the sexual stimulation brought by another male body, but I always think about which time after that, I was sure, I would not regret it, I like men, and Accept that this is my life from now on?Have you ever experienced, that kind of, the first time?

I can't tell the specific reason, but I always feel that the relationship that didn't go well later has something to do with the fact that I made several first versions.

In fact, those alternate statements are not false, each version is true, even if it is slightly embellished, it still records a certain awakening in life, or a break.

Just because I don't want to part with the atmosphere left by those memories, each one wants to mark them as "the first time".

The paradox is that it is too ironic to regard those few people who are unlikely to meet again in this life as "the first time". In fact, there is only one and the last time with them.

So hastily and playfully spent my youth, 34 is also fleeting.Now that I am in my fifties, I especially miss the self who used to think hard about "what happens between men and men?"

★

Now, I finally understand that how each person survives depends on the way he or she remembers.

There is no such thing as an objective and unbiased memory, all memories are prejudices, experiences restructured for one's own survival.

It is said that fish have an exceptionally short memory, and elephants have an amazing memory.

I don't know how this is measured.They have no language in which to speak, to confess, or to write memoirs.Maybe they are all just showing long or short memory, as a kind of self-defense protective color is also unknown.

At least I am sure that human beings know this trick very well.

I would say that memory is like a skin that forms over the surface of our experience.

Experience is flesh and blood, too naked and brutal.But memory is such a soft and light thing, with proper temperature and humidity, and exudes its own body odor from the tiny pores.

Sometimes I think of Leni Riefenstahl (Leni Riefenstahl), the female director who was appreciated by Hitler and shot the classic documentary film history of the [-] Berlin Olympics.

She remained consistent after Germany's defeat, insisting that she had no knowledge of Hitler's ongoing Holocaust during World War II.The world could not accept her statement, they condemned her maliciousness and cold blood, and condemned her classic works as tools of political propaganda.Even though no court can convict her as a war criminal, she will live forever in the public trial of history.

To some extent, I can understand why female directors insist on not knowing.It's not defending her, it's more like finally understanding that a public apology can appease public anger, why did she throw herself into the flames of condemnation?

Enthusiastically devoted to directing, she probably has no interest in anything other than this, whether it is a peaceful world or a bloody regime, and she has never bothered to understand it.The rise of the tyrant and the budding of Leni's talent may be cause and effect, or just a coincidence.Unfortunately, she was born in the wrong age.On the film she rotates, the fate of others is nothing but snowflakes and flowing clouds that cannot be captured by the lens, which melt when they hit the ground and disperse when the wind blows.She edited the porn she had shot, and couldn't think of anything worth remembering in those years other than her movies.

If only you can remember yourself as a young, talented, and movie-loving self, why must the so-called facts, ink about death, madness, and destruction be splattered with memories?

I think this is something that the female director may not even realize.

To deny it outright is not necessarily to lie with open eyes, maybe she is just using this method to give herself a reason to live.Maybe we've all done the same thing without knowing it.

And what do I remember?

In the imminent [-]s, whether it is spiritual, physical, material or emotional, all unspeakable and unbearable grief and indignation are about to find the cracks in the social transition and spew out all at once, far and wide. It's a long way to go, but I don't know where it ends.

The smell was like sulfur, and like a dry soup pot, smoking intermittently.

In the [-]s, many lies about the island would be destroyed. The "Legislative Yuan" is not very peaceful, and conflicts between social groups with opposing opinions on campus gradually surfaced.The change of the times is nothing but the exposure of old lies and the replacement of new lies.There are always too many people who are not good at lying, slip and fall in such a gap, and never know what else to believe.

The ambitious have seen the arena they can fight for.They see that the screws that once held the whole society together have begun to loosen and rust, that the opportunity has opened up for all those who want to stand up, and that the honorable labels of the victims are barely in time to be distributed.I couldn't feel the joy of anticipation.

Regarding these events that can be written into history, I don't remember the detailed ins and outs at all.I think I have a kind of amnesia like Leni Reifenstahl.Because this is an era where mistakes can be blamed on the common cause of history, everyone has more or less contributed to some unjust crime, so it may be humane to admit that we are unwitting accomplices.

Big history has always been just a few people's drama codes, just like a serial drama, after one episode is finished, the next one will be replaced.Even if war breaks out and families are destroyed, the surviving people are nothing more than a pile of insects and ants, squirming in fright, continuing to forage for food and building nests, and do not forget to mate and strive to reproduce.

No matter how the times are turned upside down, I still can only cling to my perch like a cicada in the end of summer, singing my memory.

What Leni Reifenstahl remembers is her movies, that is when she came to the end of her life, when everything fell off and decayed, there was still a core left.

And what I remember is, my disappointment.

No matter how complicated and profound the principles of life are, they can be reduced to two words in the end: timing.The reason why most disappointments happen is because of these two words: miss.

★

Earlier that day, I took my mother's ashes home from the temple in Nanshijiao.

My father had just passed away for 49 days, so I decided not to enshrine it in the temple this time, so that my father and mother could simply move back home, so that I would not be out of breath and feel exhausted even going to the incense stick in two years.The plan at that time was to bring the two elders with me in the future. Anyway, I have no descendants to worship. No matter whether I will enter the hospital or nursing home, go to heaven or go to hell in the future, it is better to get together as a family, which can be regarded as making up for the regret of years of unfilial piety. .

Having said that, when I faced the pair of porcelain pots placed on the coffee table in the center of the living room, I still couldn't help feeling sentimental.The scene of the urns being placed side by side reminds me of when I was a child, on the morning of the first day of the Lunar New Year, my parents would sit in the living room like this, waiting for me to kowtow to them in the New Year... After moving back to the old house Looking at the furniture and furnishings in the house that have not been changed for decades, I always feel sad.The indoor phone was useless, and it didn't ring three or four times in a month. Only then did I understand better what it was like to live alone waiting to die.After that, I didn't care about the phone bills that were desperately called for, and the useless things were left to fend for themselves.

Unexpectedly, on this day, the antique phone, which I thought had stopped talking for a long time, came back from hibernation, the ringtone was loud, and the strange man on the microphone called my name directly, which was naturally very surprising.

Xiao Zhong, it's me!

Yao Ruifeng...?

What was suddenly activated by that name was not memory.The code transmission of the memory bank search will take some time for people like me who are over half a century old.It was a long-lost sense of existence after living alone in mourning for a period of time.

It turns out that I exist——

At least it must have existed, so it will be remembered and somehow found.

That name once had a certain meaning, and it was obviously buried too deep in his consciousness, and if he flipped it a little, he would feel inexplicable palpitations in his body.

A perception so specific.A name that escaped from the past.

That name was once a password that could no longer be mentioned.Now he has finally come out from a dream trick that seems to be parallel time and space, only to hear him eagerly trying to fill the blank space between us: how are you all these years?I can still find you by dialing this old phone number, I can't think of it——!

To deal with this sudden memory intrusion, I had to copy the same sentence imitating the echo of the valley, and I didn't have to answer it carefully until the whereabouts of the dusty file was finally located.

Yao's voice passed through the microphone, like a buzzing bee, surrounding the flower garden in its memory.The garden that once bloomed briefly for a summer.

Thirty years have passed like this, and 30 years have become a unit on the scale of memory, and more than 30 days are just a scale.

When my thoughts began to jump back and forth between the two points on the scale, trying to find the more subtle marks in between, a dizzy panic suddenly hit my heart.

If this most of my life can be compared with a stack of folders stacked as high as a tower, the volume about Yao, due to years of improper placement, caused a slight weight imbalance, which has already made the entire pile of high memory. Starting from that name, the tower has become more and more tilted that cannot be ignored.

Youth has long been like a bottle of red wine that has been opened for a long time, leaving only bitter vinegar when it evaporates.

In the past 20 years, we have not met each other. Why did Yao think of contacting again?I don't understand.

How could I know that my old classmate was almost going to join the cabinet and reach another peak in his life?

Based on polite social conventions, it is natural to exchange each other's mobile phone numbers and mailboxes. At the same time, I also apologize for not using novel communication methods such as Facebook and Line, and hope that it will not cause any inconvenience to contact.During the short conversation of less than four or five minutes, tentative hesitation and hesitation, the strangeness of familiarity and strangeness was always shrouded.

Although he was worried, he pretended to be careless and asked another question casually:

Is there anything important you need from me?

No.

Yao paused, his tone less brisk (philistine?).He said, Xiao Zhong, I have been listening to your songs all these years.

so what?I asked with a smile to myself.

Even if it wasn't a decision to part ways, it was already a return to the bridge.

As expected, he married Angela, who had a family background and talent. In [-], he returned to his hometown in central China, where he participated in the "Legislative Council" election and was successfully elected.

After that, I lost interest in continuing to follow his career development.Or it should be said that in those few years I was very busy, busy looking for pleasure in the Shake Head Bar sauna, most afraid of being alone, and most afraid of getting along with this world.With the gradual rise of the opposition party, Yao became more vigorous on the political road, while I seemed to make a wrong step, like a golden cross of death.We let go of our hands on the road of life, and not only can we never go back to the inseparable inseparability of that summer vacation, but even that memory, I try not to touch it as much as possible.

Obviously Yao got what he wanted, why should I worry about him?What qualifications do I have to express any opinion on his life?

Ah Chong’s righteous words are still in his ears. He himself should have forgotten all about it. When he was in college, he criticized Taiwan for having too many overseas students who stayed overseas and said that he would never be like them. In the end, he But he went up to the next level and became a wanted criminal with no home to return to.Swapped away tens of millions of cash assets from his own business, and took the man he later became obsessed with away. Is it a temporary obsession, or is it a script he has patiently planned for a long time, and what he is waiting for is such a completely impressive climax? ...

So, has Ah Chong finally caught the flight to a beautiful new life?

Being alone, I can only try my best to wrap myself into a mystery and travel through the world carefully.

There is no other way to survive, always show humility and friendliness, acquire a specialty as soon as possible, and be sure to keep a certain distance from others.Entering the WTO but not involved in the world, deliberate but not attracting attention.

I can imagine the scene of Yao and Angela waving while standing on the street sweeping publicity van.It was only after many years that I suddenly realized that Yao's method of survival was superior.

Walking into the crowd to fight for feelings, the people who speak and shut are the common people. Fathers, brothers, sisters, and folks give big ① Please, please, build an invisible protective wall, and never have to mention your private needs. This is the public in everyone's eyes. Selfless, honest and self-love.

If you can't avoid the crowd, just put your whole body into it.In fact, there is no better invisibility than this.

In fact, ordinary people can't see anything.

All they hear and see is their own fear and anger.

Holding the microphone, waiting for Yao's next words, he stumbled into a reef in the stream of consciousness in a daze.Yao said that he was listening to my songs all the time, making people think he was implying something, or that he had something to say?Soon, he made up a few dry laughs himself, and hurriedly said:

"Then make an appointment for dinner? Are you free next Wednesday night?"

Holding the microphone with only the beeping warning sound of the empty line in my hand, I had an illusion for a while that this short conversation was basically talking to myself in my heart.He folded up the torn piece of paper on which Yao's cell phone number was written down, and carefully put it in his wallet.This must not be lost as proof that you are not delusional.In this era of upside-down chaos and indistinguishable truth from reality, no one can guarantee whether a fifty-something-year-old man living alone will one day be trapped in a world entangled in forgetfulness, doubt, sadness, and absurdity. In a spider's web that can't be explained to a hundred people.

After hanging up the phone, I don't remember how long I continued to sit on the sofa.

In the unlit living room of my hometown after dusk drew near, the urn of my parents' ashes and I looked at each other silently.Those two porcelain urns radiated a light of mercy like god statues.

Sitting in the dark living room of my hometown, for the first time, I began to seriously think about my funeral.It would be best to scatter the ashes of my parents and myself under an old tree, so that I can leave with peace of mind.

It's just such a heavy responsibility, who can I entrust to?

★

Once, in that conservative era, he was like a stray dog ​​that was inexplicably abandoned, dodging hastily in a strange city, and finally saw other figures of the same kind and rushed towards it excitedly.

It’s just because I was young, I thought my coming out was a big announcement to the world, like standing on the cliff where Moses divided the Red Sea, seeing the path leading to the redemption of my generation, thinking that I had taken this step Even if you are ready, you can face a world that may be changing with openness and pride.

As everyone knows, the "world" that you need to face when you are in your 20s turns out to be very small. Outside of your family, there are a dozen or so classmates you keep in touch with, but that's it.With the frequency of job changes, more and more people come into contact with, and the age is getting older. From time to time, there will be elementary school classmates who have not seen for decades, middle school teachers, etc. on the street, and they will always be asked a question Are you married yet?Do you have a girlfriend yet?And after I shook my head speechlessly, their faces began to show doubts and unnatural smiles.

As for the class reunion, I stopped attending after a time or two.It is far more difficult to face the awkward and hidden self in the past than to face strangers with a brand new identity.It turns out that unless you become a well-known public figure, the matter of coming out can be done once and for all, otherwise it will be endless.

For the later years of life, the classification of friends has long been downplayed as an unnecessary burden.The only reason I can think of for meeting them is to provide evidence of my presence (or absence) in scenes of overlapping years.But I gradually realized that often I could only capture very vague fragments of those old things that they talked about with great interest, even if I tried to concentrate.Rather than saying that they want to revisit with me, it is better to say that they are testing my loyalty to them. Even if the impression is vague, I should also agree.

Why are they afraid that their memories cannot be verified?How lonely is it to be alone with your memories without sharing them with anyone?

Don't underestimate the intention of such old chats. Everyone is actually trying to use his memory version to convey his deeply believed values ​​and moral sense.

The will to life displayed behind this memory, and even the struggle for the meaning of existence, have made me feel extremely tired since I don't know when.When the surrounding memories accumulate into the consensus of a large group of people, then evolve into the so-called rules of experience, and finally solidify into the imprint of a group, it is called identity.

After middle age, unemployed, bloated, sloppy, and out of place like me, who would (will) remember that this person once bet on the little fame he had accumulated so hard for a status called "comrade", thinking that he Doing a feat that changes history?

Perhaps long before the platform incident, my singing career was doomed to a hiatus.

The songs I have sung and composed, those similar, false, gender-disordered love-hate narratives, have long been unable to bear the crowded question marks and exclamation marks in my life.Most of the time, we still can only use routines such as falling in love, falling in love, marriage, mistress, and even going to bed, fucking, blowing... These words were originally created for men and women.It’s really about honestly and nakedly dissecting the emotions between men. There are too many confusing parts that cannot be expressed by the existing vocabulary, but no one really wants to tell the truth clearly.

Yes, now, years later, I saw a half-red but not-famous pop music producer, so mediocre with no muscles and no looks, stood on the stage and demanded the public to sign a petition demanding that the public security unit deal with the three sex workers. Nuannuan sweeps up to avoid harming the lives of comrades caused by drugs and unsafe sex. Anyone should take a deep breath, right?

That picture is really unbearable and disgusting!How could you have such courage back then?How can I be so ignorant?It's even beyond the state of what your own race wants?

What they want is the platform of the king of heaven and the queen of heaven, the blessing of gorgeous and dreamy lights, and the heterosexuals clapping their hands in admiration and admiration, saying that besides cheering, they also regard them as a potential market and dare not neglect them.This is a common dream of the times. Only with consumption can there be voices and a new attitude (coming out?).More than ten years before gay identity first became a public issue, death, loneliness, sickness, old age, poverty and ugliness were still far away from them. (What's the situation outside now? I've been in retreat for too long...) As a result, I first caused everyone to look at each other in blank dismay, and even lowered their heads or looked away in embarrassment.This is still a mild punishment.At the moment when I was spit on and threw the soda can, I didn't know that I had become a traitor to my clan.

I, the unforgivable sinner, exposed the deepest anxiety and fear of my comrades to the eyes of social criticism.Those who need drugs and passionate bodies to temporarily escape forgetting, loneliness, I am so unconcerned.

Faced with the departure of a loved one twice, whether in the hospital or the funeral home, I was the only one busy in and out.My heterosexual sister and brother immigrated to Australia and the United States, respectively, long ago, using the supreme family egoism as a talisman.The nurses saw that I had no relatives to help me, so I couldn't help but care about it, but I didn't bother to explain more, saying that I was divorced understatement, which saved trouble.The poor parents are lying on the hospital bed, and they will still be harassed by the gossip and gossip of the nurse Obasan: Has your son ever been on TV to talk about AIDS?

As an AIDS carrier, this label identity is always with me, making it even more difficult for me to gain a foothold in the originally narrow and closed circle of my family.

The two elders didn't give up until they were dying and asked again: Is it true that they lived alone like this?Seeing that I was speechless, the old man was worried and burst into tears for the last time in front of me.

Maybe there was a moment right now when I regretted being honest with them.

But if I hadn't said it out loud, I suspect that I might have become a prodigal son who left home and lost contact, unable to face their life, and also ashamed of their death.

For me, speaking out means that when I am on the verge of suffocation due to lack of oxygen in a helpless black hole, and when my consciousness gradually blurs and I almost give up, I cough up the last breath of Yang Qi.

I don't want to be sneaky like this in my life, I'm going to die.Even if it is a selfish survival instinct, but I know in my heart that my skin, body, and hair are not destroyed in the end, and I will stay here to die for my parents.

Although it is a bad life, at least I know that it is the times that made the mistake, not myself.

★

There are still unnecessary memories in hand, and those that need to be remembered are always those that have been lost, or that are about to disappear.

For example, happiness.

Maybe happiness is a determination, I used to believe so.

The determination that has worked hard, what kind of process was that?Or, just a stop frame at a key point?Afterwards, the happiness that is always like melting snow seems to be held in the hand for an instant, but it immediately turns into dripping water between the fingers, so what is going on? ...

A question always leads to more questions.

Memory has no beginning.Every fragment of memory may be but a piece of the puzzle of some partial truth.but memories are always