the charm of literature lies in its ability to encode messages. perhaps, it's a way for poets to vent their muses, yet allow secrets to be carried to the grave. and, perhaps, students of literature are just curious onlookers who seek to rise the mysteries from the graves of people past, to expose their love, hate, exploits, schemes, scandals. such is the beauty of literature.
比起宇宙乾坤的荒洪遍野，除了小塵埃，我們什麼也不是。 既然只是小塵埃，那我們為甚麼要如此用力地飛翔？ 耗盡全力所勾出的輪廓，是為了供造物者欣賞，還是為了塵埃的自我實現？ 我，只想飛舞，漂泊。既然我在時空的軸上那麼微不足道，如果還不捍衛自己生命的價值，那驚鴻一瞥的一生，又是為了什麼？ 可不可以允許我自私，讓我為了自己而蒼老，為了自己而燃燒生命？ 請讓我創造，請讓我支配自己的腳步。 畢竟，除了這一點，我也無法支配什麼。
Comments