If you are reading this...

I received a lot of group-send msgs (of course).

Only your msg. wasn't a blanket one. It was very short but it was for me.

I replied to none of the groupsends but I replied to yours.

Thank you. :)

Babel

United again, my kin,

Under the blessed confusion.

I'll be in Scotland afore ye

Edith: Do you always travel this light?
John: It's the only way to move.

(The Man from Earth, a movie)

Now I regret having buying so many books. After all, I can't carry a library around with me. For once or two I had imagined heaven to be a kind of library too. But then again, this is not heaven. Heaven's perhaps some kind of a destination, where here is always a start.

I came to realize that I've been treating my collection of books as a place to resort to, something of a shelter, although I wasn't really concious about it. In other words, it's becoming a dependency. "Dependency hell", huh?

Finally I came to nothing but my memories. Turbulent, unreliable yet intriguing memories. If only I could keep those bits in memory.

I have seen things you people wouldn't believe. At length they'll go like... tears in rain. But not lost, I hope.

Time to get on the road. Maybe.

Angel of Blue

I walked in the street struck by the gigantic, icy wings of an angel. The angel is bilingual. She speaks in two languages: syphilis and sheets of paper.

I walked down the street trying to catch my words. They escaped. They escaped into the poorly lit lanes and houses. I was unable to speak. Unspoken ice sheets of time imploded and broke. It was the flood.

I reached out for the touch of running water. I knew well that no water would be running in such uncompromisingly cold weather but I still did. I touched ice.

I looked out at the angel. The angel said, "You stand here and face the time. We are no different."

Albatross on the neck

Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.

I forgot to update my dreams

太阳下的丁字路口。St. Martin in the Fields. 走在不熟悉的石头街道，双手捧着方盒，里面是湿润的酸性的泥土。路口正面，木制的两层楼面向大街。阳光晒着木纹。

弯曲的虫。玻璃管中蓝色的液体像是染料，告诉我手中的土来自酸性的大地。只要还有一部分是干净的就行。是要小心保护的。我愿意在这样一个日子保护它。

大路的入口是一排排的检票机。在那里A找到了我。我给她尝了我带来的美酒。我们走进了灰白色的大楼，楼里的走廊看上去也像丁字路口。第二天，我带来了更好的酒，她笑了笑，我看出并不很对她的口味。不过……

Water will drink my sorrows dry

昨天深夜，第一次听了完整的歌剧Peter Grimes录音。

整整一天都对此无话可说。Totally electrified. Ellen和Peter的声音，在脑中像海潮一样，退去了，又涌上来。

到现在也还是说不出什么来。好像随着Peter的终结，有什么东西在心里断掉了。