記憶

不知道為什麼，關於中國的記憶不知何時有些陌生了起來。突然想到的時候，有些驚訝地發現自己原來已經很久沒有回憶起那裡的事情了。在西安七樓的過去竟像是在逐漸變成單純的畫面，徑直想起時心中不再能夠像往昔那樣立刻升起熟悉的感受，其間的聲音也都好似隨著時間在漸漸消泯著，只有某些朦朧卻又清晰的碎片仍舊仿佛仍舊留存著故去的情緒。我想起大概是某個陽光明媚的週日午後，在春鳥的輕鳴中，自己與同學在走過三號樓的門口，零星的人們緩緩從身旁經過，綠茵圍繞在四周；想起許多細雨的清晨，有時我坐在窗臺上，靠在活動室的紗窗看著泛黃的書頁，然後默默地閉上眼半睡半醒著；有時隨意地在鋼琴上敲幾下，然後又躺在鋼琴椅旁，將外套披在自己的身上，窗戶半開著，幾絲雨線隨著微風飄落在自己的臉上......從前曾無數次開懷大笑過，沒心沒肺而熱烈地為各式有趣的事物歡笑過，曾以為最大的快樂便是那些時刻了......我現在忽然不這樣想了。

I don’t know why and I don’t know when,the memory of China seems to be becoming alien.Remembering it suddenly,I was surprised that I hadn’t recalled the things that had happened there for a long time.The things of the seven floor in Xian unexpectedly seems to be turning into simple frames, and directly remembering it my heart would not again feel familiar as in the past;the sounds between them also seems to be being lost as time passes,only some filmy but also strangely plain pieces still remain.I remember a sunny Sunday afternoon when my classmates and I walk past the the glass gate of third floor ,some people walking past us,vegetation surrounding;remember many drizzly mornings when I sometimes sit on the windowsills,back leaning against the screen window in the activity rooms and read yellowing pages of books,my eyes half opening half closing;sometimes strike some keys of the piano and then lie on the ground,putting coat over me with windows half opening above me,several drops of rain falling in my face in response to a gust of soft wind......I used to laugh hard many times,laugh with no heart at all sorts of interesting things,thinking the best happiness is such......I don't think so anymore.