快到周末的时候,老马跟我说,到看流星的时节(la notte di San Lorenzo)了。我随便应了一声,后来不经意间提到一句,我好像从来都没有看到过流星,至少没有有意识的记忆。其实我也从来都没有在自己有没有看到过流星这件事上有过任何纠结。但老马听了反应激烈,仿佛我此生蒙受了莫大的委屈,星期六提议说当天晚上去看流星,问我是否愿意。我当时正在为不知什么小事生闷气,点点头啥都没说。老马就擅自谷歌出一个在维也纳附近看流星的好去处,也不怕德语网页没读懂,晚上十点多拉着毫无劲头的我,出门前还确保我穿好了衣服和球鞋,然后开着摩托车向城外开去。
虽是盛夏时节,周末刚好降温,夜晚的冷风从我们身体的一侧穿向另一侧,似乎在发出嘲讽的声音。我还在继续生着气,夹杂在这冷风之上,转化成一种莫名的悲从中来。我想念家中温暖的被窝和Netflix上一点都不可笑的美国喜剧片。我们渐渐驶出市区,将并不怎么绚烂的小城市灯火抛在身后。公路上没有路灯,只有安静行驶的车辆冰冷地打着车灯,勉强照亮前方的地面。我偶然抬起头看了看天空,没想到只是二十分钟的距离之外,竟是满天繁星。我于是试图保持仰头的姿势。我们正前方是北斗七星,周围有许多似曾相识的形状,可惜我没有好好学习星座。我想起我印象中这样的星空。印度Pushkar的郊区、摩洛哥某沙漠以及约旦Wadi Rum。我想起我们在Wadi Rum露营的时候,夜幕降临后,营地的向导带我们去一块大石头后面的平地上面看星星。大石头刚好挡住月光,我躺在地上,面对漫天的星星竟感到有些不知所措。向导拿出手机打开一个App,专门用来识别星座,只要用手机对着某个方向,App里的星座图就会跟着移动。我举着手机看了好久,真的识别出好多个星座,有一种非常纯粹的成就感,仿佛自己与宇宙的距离拉近了。要是此刻我有那个App就好了,我想。我试图目不转睛地盯着天空,后来有几次我觉得我看到了流星,一颗星星划出了一条线,可是我又不确定那是流星,因为盯久了好像满天的星星都在流动,化作一个巨大的礼花冲我飞来。我突然不生气了。 停车之后,我们又在阴森的田间小道步行了一刻多钟才到达目的地,其间好几次我都怕会有妖怪从玉米地里钻出来,老马还在旁呵斥我不要把手电筒光打太亮。我们在黑暗中找了一块地坐下来,周围有人压低声音聊天,但很难看出到底有多少人。此时的天气已经非常冷,我感到手脚冰凉。每次有流星划过的时候,都会传来一声整齐的惊呼,也是压低声音。每次惊呼之后,老马都会问我,你看到了吗,看到了吗。我好几次都真的没有看到,但也有几次是看到了。我依然觉得流星没有什么特别的,眨眼的瞬间,微小到可以忽略,看到了怎样,没看到又怎样,什么都改变不了。 回到家我又困又累又冷,一句话都没多说倒头便睡。第二天下午我突然想起来,拉住老马说,谢谢你昨天带我去看流星。他说,不用谢,没想到天那么冷。
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今晚在tunnel看了一场小众音乐会,一支来自波兰北部格但斯克叫做immortal onion的乐队,风格混杂爵士、电子和金属等。乐队三个成员看上去像是十来岁的小朋友,发言时也稚气十足,后来临走前专门上去搭讪,才知道其实都是二十出头的样子。整场只坐了三桌人,其中一组还仿佛是在街头失去方向不得已进来的年轻游客。第四桌坐着一个短发女子,手中捧着一个用来收钱的罐子,上面写着:最少五欧。中间进来一个扎着一大头脏辫的男人,坐在短发女子那桌,看不出轮廓的身体在T恤里晃荡,他有着所有扎脏辫的人固有的肢体语言和神态,不屑一顾地,随着音乐摇摆与尖叫。我盯着他看了一会儿,觉得他让我想起了一些东西,一些过往,一些可能性。 鼓手小哥用不太流利的英文说:你们给我们钱,我们才能回到格但斯克。一观众问:不然呢,你们会留在维也纳吗。小哥说:不会吧,可是我们也许就要去洗盘子了。众人笑。 很多时候生活把我们跟特定的人放在一个场景里,让我们误以为,这一刻如此特别,命运让我们相遇在此。事实上,我们只是碰巧出现在同一个画框里罢了,脏辫小哥会摇摆着尖叫着继续旁若无人地生活,鼓手小哥会去下个城市接着讲洗盘子的笑话,而我,明天此时就会忘了他们的样子。 Today I watched a small concert at Tunnel. The band Immortal Onion comes from Gdansk, a northern city in Poland. Their music is a mixture of jazz, electronic, metal and other genres. The three band members looked like teenagers and talked very childishly during the concert. Before leaving, my curiosity drove me to go up and ask them how old they were. It turned out they were all in their early 20s. During the entire concert, only three tables were occupied by spectators, one group of which seemed to be young tourists lost on the street and didn't see any other option as to where to go. At the fourth table sat a woman with short hair, holding a box intended for collecting money. It's written on the box: minimum amount 5 euros. At some point a guy with dreadlocks came in and joined the short-haired woman at the table. His slim body was shaking in the not so wide T-shirt without displaying its silhouette. He had the same body language and facial expression as all the people who have dreadlocks. Nonchalant, he swung and screamed along with the music. I stared at him for a bit, having the feeling that he reminded me of something, some past, some possibilities.
We have to use the money you give us to go back to the north of Poland, the dummer said in not so fluent English. Someone from the audience said, otherwise you will stay here in Vienna? No, but maybe we will have to wash some dishes, he answered. A laughter burst out. Many times life puts us in a certain situation with certain people to make us falsely believe that this moment is so unique because destiny brought us here. As a matter of fact, we just coincidentally appeared in the same picture frame, that's all. The guy with dreadlocks will swing and scream and live his life without caring much about what others have to say. The drummer will tell the joke about washing dishes again in the next city on the tour. And me, I will forget them by this time tomorrow. - the end - |
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