In brief, three lines :

 

one unacceptable performance

(for Raül who's only got 2pts and 1ast during 23min, and a lost)

 

(for McLaren whose so-called 'stability' tired me, as I see no progress neither excitement for fans)

 

then at last, another fantastic performance

(for Liverpool who rose from the flame, for Kops who kept singing all along even long time after the Reds bowing out...though the last 20-30min of the match almost killed me :P)

 

Ps, great to see Kim and Justine play together for Belgium again.

  我要去看海，妈妈，她是那么的近，
  光着脚，他将清晨的第一束阳光满满地捧在手心。
  彻夜未眠的母亲，斜倚着窗，
  望着他踏过卵石铺就的悠长深巷，
  穿过小广场上从四方聚拢而来的熙攘，
  望着残留的夜色，从斑驳的灯柱一侧抖落。

 

  紧攥着一纸蓝色信笺，
  母亲翻飞的裙摆掠过晌午的集市。
  挤在陶罐里的花儿们都中断了交谈，
  出神地嗅着那渐渐弥漫开的歌谣：
  多少里路被你抛在了身后，远方的孩子？
  你要往哪儿去，又将在何处歇脚？
  那片蓝呵，那片家乡没有的蓝，
  诞生在你的那双眼睛里，那双忧郁的眼睛。

 

  我回来了，妈妈，我把大海给你捎了回来，
  直起身，她将一箩筐私语轻轻撒落窗台。
  小憩中的母亲，伸出疲倦的双臂，
  抚摸着她浸于阳光下的如瀑青丝，
  聆听着她掬了满怀的那串低吟浅唱，
  望着铺洒墙角的阳光，微醺在远方的隐隐潮声中。

 

The first lines were written down one year ago, which was meant to be for his 25th birthday. But I was late, as always. Though so much happened during this one-year period, though the rupture could be clearly observed between lines, something remains the same, even much stronger than before. I’m surprised by this magic, the magic even born in the damned cold nights. Grâce à lui, je suis amoureuse, de nouveau.

My computer is dead, ok, dead for some while. So I'm forced to be far away from Chinese typing. I hope it could return to life before Easter weekend.

 

But strangely, something inside of me has revived, just when I woke up this morning. I've been rather bad this year, rather frustrated and even despretated. Sometimes when too many things happen to you at the same time, or consecutively, you'll lost in them, too confused to think over them positively, and then feel your heart's dying, even the very little happiness becomes fleeting. Ephémère, I prefer this word in French, just as living life.

 

Anyway, gotta live up a little, so that's why I love the sunshine of April, which wakes up something lost, something dying. All of a sudden, it remindes me of one of my childhood dreams, a wild dream that is about to be alive for a lifetime. So for about ten minutes, I've made up my mind to follow it, gradually getting into a longterm plan, maybe in ten years or more.

 

So I chose volver (return) as title, also the name of Almodóvar's new film. Meanwhile, I've come to the 16th page of the long letter, Roberto Benigni is quite right, without love, there's no life.

 

Hope this time it would last.

一清早缩在被窝里，迷迷糊糊地望见从高处的帘褶透进来的一方天空，渐渐泛白，完全无法猜出是个什么天气，确切地说，这片土地上，永远没有确切的天气。耳边飘进开着的电视里一句对墨尔本骤晴转雨的感叹，这话从比利时解说嘴里吐出来未免有些可笑，于是我一下子清醒了。

 

复活节假期开始前的一个周末，小镇往日的喧闹已被归家的学生们卷去了大半，敞开的窗外连个人影都不见，惟有远处半空中齐齐向一个方向飘移的云让停滞的画面动了起来，提醒你时间的存在。出神地望着那些灰浅不一的云，不免惊异于它们移动的速度竟然如此之快。想起去年住的那间屋子，巨大的窗子将一片空阔的天地横陈在面前，于是日日坐看风起云落，渐渐习惯了阴晴雨雪的瞬间交替，也熟悉了黄昏里夕阳携余晖消失的路线，春夏秋冬各不相同。每天都能看见时间在自己面前划天际而过，看脚下的这个星球带着自己朝另一个方向奔去，无法回头。

 

胡思乱想着，外面小路尽头走来一位老妇人，一头银丝与臂弯间的大包格外扎眼，由于是一段下坡路也就走得特别慢，目光紧紧落在面前铺展下去的小径上，让人无从揣测老人是否边走边在思忖着些什么。恍惚间，我重新看见了时间在窗前无声流过，汇成海，召唤人们潜进去静止在里面，sink or swim。