Chapter 3 How can I still think of you in the second series
Unexpectedly, I met Jiang Hua in Wuhan on New Year's Day.It is a flower stand placed on the sidewalk, with white flowers day after day, with long and full stems, standing upright, flowers blooming high, but their heads are slightly lowered, and the thin and skinny woman looks half-bloomed in full bloom.A large newspaper hangs high in front of the booth, and the word "Jiang Hua" is clumsy.
This is ginger flower?I almost blurted out.The earliest known Jiang Hua was in Yi Shu's novel, "Two Women" or?It is always a house like a snow cave, with a small crystal lamp hanging from the high ceiling, occasionally tinkling with the wind, and a large crystal bottle with a large bunch of ginger flowers in it. A burst of coolness... Hong Kong in her writing seems to be an eternal summer. Ginger flowers appear together with summer, fragrant, warm and quiet, aggressive, like the faint big eyes of a girl in white...
Familiarity is very familiar, easy to use, and the same style is Yi Shu's style - not counting criticism, this is what we are good at. Barristers, architects and even gangster leaders will have the opportunity to read "Melancholy, old love is like a dream".But mentioning ginger flower in this way is because ginger flower can be seen everywhere in Hong Kong, right?
When I met Jiang Hua in the warm winter of Wuhan, I had no room for hesitation.For one yuan and three flowers, I will give a piece of ten yuan to go.The flower seller said eagerly, "I come here every day, and I'll be there whenever I want to buy." I ordered the newspaper and left an eight-digit phone number on it, stating "I'm looking for old man Zhang who sells flowers." I bowed my head and took the bouquet, and I got on the plane.
That night I didn't sleep well, and when I woke up, a strange and hot fragrance came overwhelmingly.I got up at five o'clock, and went to the living room in a daze, and there was a quietly blooming ginger flower, and I suddenly realized.
Taking a look between combing my hair, washing my face, and packing my bags, it turned out that those blooming flowers had withered, and now the blooming ones were all unknown to me.A real concubine is like a flower in a vase, it grows overnight.
I haven't seen Jiang Hua since then, and I don't plan to meet her in Beijing's ice and snow.Every time I think about it, there are regrets and doubts that winter and summer are irrelevant.When spring comes, there is nothing to do, so I flip through "Nine Songs", "Caifangzhou is Du Ruo, and I will leave my daughter."I knew that Du Ruo was a vanilla, so I glanced at it and placed my bet, "One said it was ginger flower".Surprised.
I rummaged through the bookshelf and found "Chu Ci Botanical Atlas". There is a photo of Du Ruo, which is too small to see clearly.I only feel snow-white and arrogant, and there is an alienation between flowers and flowers.Very dazed.I quickly found out that there are at least two kinds of ginger flowers, one is also called Phalaenopsis, which belongs to the Zingiberaceae family, and the other is Duruo, which belongs to the Commelinaceae family.
I have always liked the name Du Ruo, and even used it as the name of the heroine in the novel.I thought very carefully that I might encounter it, because Qu Yuan's hometown was originally Hubei.But I can't be sure.And I also like Yishu very much.With two kinds of ginger flowers, it is a surprise to meet anyone, and it is a pity to miss anyone.Even if I see Jiang Hua again, I doubt that I can deny it, like searching for the only murderer among five or six suspects, "It seems to be this, it may be that, the third one is also like..."
Almost a novel.I met two good men during a long journey, and the train drove into a dark tunnel, and suddenly I put a kiss on my lips.Before they could be alarmed, the sky was already blue outside the window.Is it him, or is it him?Ah, Jiang Hua doesn't know.
I don't know who sent me a song, probably a friend with a smirk on his face.
Gradually, I heard the lyrics clearly, and was shocked: "I can give you my favorite cake, I can give you all my savings, I can help you kill the person you hate, even your shit—— I can eat it in big mouthfuls."
Enthusiastic to crazy, hot to embers, this love confession is shocking, ordinary people like me, stomach and heart can't bear it.
My reaction levels are as follows: accept the cake very happily, immediately scoop up a spoonful to feed him, and share my sweetness with my sugar heart; the savings are too grand, I have to weigh whether I can afford his life; kill?No way, boss, everyone should just be friends; eat what I made...?I must run as fast as I can, and run as far as I can.
Love so far, so terrible.
The Korean movie is called "The Lie", and there is a passage in it: the hero and heroine are in a swaying subway car, the lights are dim, and there is no one around them.The girl is not very good-looking, but the night always makes her sad and beautiful, like a lavender camellia.She whispered to the man, "I think you really love me, you are willing to eat my shit." She smiled.
In the eyes of the unprepared audience, the dark blue and white subtitles are dripping with blood.But the Korean pronunciation is lingering and gentle.
The man also whispered back to her, "The feeling of eating shit makes my heart beat."
Both of them are smiling earnestly, they are men and women who secretly love each other.
Could eating shit be a sign?The size is so out of normal space and vision, yet it exists.The most thorough humility, the broadest tolerance - it is said that to love someone is to accept her shortcomings, so is it okay to accept her filth?Is this love, or gluttony among the seven deadly sins?
And some other universal standards, such as loyalty, tolerance, consideration...there is no inner hysteria and madness.What is love, and what is perversion?
I suddenly felt confused. My heart, which was originally as clear as water and as bright as a mirror, broke through thousands of waves with a single stone.And this is not a world with standard answers.
Then I know that "Lies" is indeed not a pornographic film, although the original author is imprisoned for this, the plot is so violent, sadism and masochism are both painful and ecstatic.The male protagonist is said to be an artist, bravely undressing in front of the camera, a very ordinary, almost ugly man's body, never arousing lust - definitely, it takes more courage than a handsome man's undressing.
He said that he believes that when his nine-year-old daughter grows up and sees this movie, she will be proud of her father.
Junichiro Tanizaki, who I like, also wrote stories about eating shit.A teenager falls in love with an impossible lover. This love is a painful wisdom tooth. He wants to extricate himself, and finally comes up with a bad idea: Although she is so beautiful, she is as big and small as us. If you steal her potty, Seeing the dirty and smelly stuff inside, you'll get bored of her pretty quickly, right?
The young man hid near the house, waiting for the right time, and finally the maid took out the leather box—the bedpan of that era, wrapped in brown and yellow dyed cloth, and covered it with a red fan.He grabbed it, hid it in his sleeve and fled home.
"After a while, he opened the lid carefully, and a scent of cloves came out. He felt incredible, and looked inside, and saw agarwood-colored liquid in the lower half, and there were three round, thumb-sized Thick, dark yellow solid about two or three inches long. It doesn’t look like that at all, with a thin fragrance. Try to pierce a little piece of wood and smell it in front of your nose. It looks like black square incense—agarwood, clove, Spices made by refining shellfish, sandalwood, lixiang, etc. Everything was unexpected, and those who felt that it was extraordinary, their admiration continued unabated. The boy took the box in front of his eyes and tried to sip it. A small sip of the liquid also has a strong clove scent. I licked the stick again, bitter and sweet. I smacked it carefully, and suddenly realized: "'pee' may be clove juice, and 'shit' is mostly kudzu juice refined mountain grass The tree is extruded with a thick tube brush after solidification. "
The woman was so cunning, the boy became more and more fascinated, and soon died of depression.
Or, perhaps, his death was out of desperation.Eating shit is despicable enough, but there is an even more contemptuous gesture: even my shit, are you willing to eat it in big mouthfuls?I don't want to yet.You don't even get a chance to kiss the filth.
It was really the harshest rejection I've ever known.
Suddenly under the lamp, I met my love, a blue glass bowl.
Like a pool of water in Jiuzhaigou or a broken feather of a peacock, when I hold it in my hands, there is a faint movement of light in its body, and it disappears instantly when I look closely.It is the temptation of flowing light and shadow, and I asked the salesperson with a smile on my face: "Can it be used to serve soup? It won't be fried?" But maybe ice cream is more suitable. On a sunny afternoon, snuggling in a wicker chair, I picked up a lotus flower A silver spoon, a glass bowl, a scoop of vanilla ice cream that seems to melt, a book that can never be finished after reading and reading... It's not even expensive, more than 100 yuan.
And then I remembered with horror that in my home, clothes were on the sofa, newspapers were on the floor, books were brought into the bathroom and then forgotten, and I was often soaked in the shower... There was almost no place to stand.The glazed bowl is as cold as a hand, it is easy to take it away, but what kind of fate can I give it?
At first, I would put it on the coffee table solemnly, and the sun would wake it up in the morning, and there would be silent music at that moment.But my beloved pet can only last for about three days. It collects ashes. This is the common mission of all confessions.I may not be able to wipe it every day.
Or one or two casual guests will come to sit and chat, and after I stop drinking, I am embarrassed to find that it is not an ashtray; maybe a proud girlfriend will curl her lips: "This thing, we have a lot of it in our house. , in the past, when my grandma was in a bad mood, she would drop one of them."
And what is farewell?On a certain day in a certain year and a certain month, I was wandering around home disheveled when I heard a bell ringing. I jumped around like a pink panther in a cartoon. Is it the doorbell, the landline or my mobile phone?Around the sleeve, it shattered all over the ground with a clang... It was Concubine Zhen, who was brutally murdered.
Even if it is in my carelessness, it has survived all the trials and tribulations.so what?In the article, Mike mentioned two green lotus-colored pottery dishes, which are inevitable utensils for eating strawberries. One is filled with sour cream, the other is filled with brown sugar. Roll it in brown sugar, it is better than delicacies from mountains and seas, give yourself a strawberry, and pass another strawberry to that person.He and his lover have been together for ten years, and he also said in a joke: "One day we split up, and I will definitely dominate these two things." He said so, and it was plausible, most of the time he said it to himself, to express Don't care about the whole thing.In fact, when they broke up, he even sent back a pottery vase made by his lover.
He'll never forget the sweetness of strawberries dipped in whipped cream—and it's kind of boring, too.It was his fault that he forgot the saying "add salt to sweetness".
It is too difficult to forget things and me. Losing or hurting is not what I want.I gently put the glazed bowl back, and said sorry to it: Reject, for your own good—and for myself.
How should I tell you about Qilixiang?You think of Jay Chou's Hehehaha, or Li Xiang in "The Flower Marriage".I smiled, and I saw the word "GAP" on your lapel out of the corner of my eye. It is your beloved brand. You probably don't know that it means "generation gap".
My sixteen-year-old flower season happened in the last century. I bought a thin collection of poems "Qilixiang", "in front of the hedge of green trees and white flowers, I waved goodbye so easily."At night, I thought about the seven lixiang that I had never seen before: it must be a tall green tree, with leaves as pink and tender as a baby's palm, and large white flowers, swaying in clusters of double petals.I miss it with melancholy, as I miss love, or the future, or melancholy itself.
At that time, my life was nothing more than desks, buses, and dejected scores. How could I not chant Qilixiang over and over again. It is like "Red Yingluo", "Plantain", and "Little Rain". , densely filled a drawer of notebooks.And when I was about to cry, I thought: Is this gloomy day a youth without complaint?When I was at the best of youth, I was worried and felt that youth would never come.
I used to think that I would never see the real Qilixiang, until I accompanied a girlfriend to other places to meet the person she secretly longed for.Her pink, white and green thoughts, she talked to me night after night until three or four o'clock, but the man didn't mention a word, only helped us find a hotel, bought a bus ticket, and took us to climb the mountain—there are trees in the mountains and branches in the trees , Do you know if you are happy?In the evening, he accompanied us out of the academy and passed through a series of doors.Beside a certain door, the ordinary bushes in the daytime burst out small white flowers with the enthusiasm and fragrance of the big canopy at night, and the fragrance spreads all over the field.I asked in surprise, what is it.He answered casually: Qilixiang.
After walking a long distance, I turned my head back frequently. Qilixiang was blurred in the night, only the fragrance followed me obsessively.I was suddenly deeply shocked by love - if this is, if they are.However, that man already had a wife and son.
It was all seven or eight years ago, but not long ago, I heard at the dinner table by chance that the man passed away, not yet forty.The only people around at the last moment are friends at work.What about his wife and his son?I didn't ask, and it actually has nothing to do with me.Need to break the news to your girlfriend?Probably not.She has also been married for many years and immigrated to Australia. I just received her photo last month, with her second son in her belly.
That night the wind was strong, I got up in the middle of the night, tried to close the window that had been slamming, and suddenly remembered "Qilixiang", which I hadn't read for many years: "After twenty years of vicissitudes, our souls return every night. When the breeze blows, It will turn into a garden full of tulips."
Twenty years haven't passed yet, I finally understand love, it turns out it was never what I imagined.And the seven lixiang in my memory, its aroma is a sharp thorn, deeply pierced into my chest.I thought I would have the singing of the nightingale, but I just bent over in pain.
My friend and I stumbled into the flower garden in the botanical garden: rows of wooden shelves are filled with disposable plastic cups, each cup contains a little soil, half a cup of water, and the mouth of the cup cannot fit a bulb No less than 1 centimeter higher than the water surface, like a seaplane performing at low altitude.
Looking at the old man in Huayuan, he said in a strong dialect: "This is the red heart." Seeing that we didn't understand, he was also very anxious, "It's the bright red red, the heart of the heart..." In fact, what he said was: "Hyacinth, the windy one. The wind, the letter that sends the letter."
Eliot said in the wilderness: You gave me Hyacinth for the first time a year ago, and they all called me Hyacinth Lady...I immediately asked a friend to buy it for me, and took it home happily.
Greenfingers taught me that hyacinth likes sunshine but not midsummer, likes moist air but not waterlogging, so it stands high on the water, which is the fourth feeling that is inseparable.Where is the warmest?I let it make its home on the radiator.
Every day after get off work, I go to watch it.When will it bloom purple flowers?One ear after another, let me wrap it in white rice paper, and walk on the road with a wide robe and big sleeves, letting the wind blow into my sleeves.But the bulb didn't move at all, it was only half a glass of water, and it gradually smelled bad.
My mother asked: "Do I need to change the water? Should the tap water be dried in the sun? Do I need to put on fat?" I was speechless: "I... don't know." At that time, there was no Internet, and resources were not readily available.My mother changed the water while shaking her head: "Sooner or later, I have to throw it away." This assertion is true, and I can't refute it.
From winter to spring, I never had a hyacinth garden, even, I gradually forgot the existence of this hyacinth.The bulb stays in the water cup, not Jesus sleeping in the manger and shining everywhere, but the planets of dead galaxies, soundless and lightless.Sometimes I think it seems to grow a little bit, but, is it an illusion?
Finally one day it fell down, cup and stem, on the living room rug.I lifted the bulb and yelled: it was sprouting, and the scales split, like an armored car opened a small window, and another small bulb came out.But on the other side, it is rotting, and yellow pus is coming out. Is it because it is soaked in water?
I hold it, helpless: it's a body that opens up and dies, a pregnant vegetable that makes me feel both thriving and sick.I tossed it back into the glass and left it alone, like a heartbroken man who abandons his injured girlfriend and runs away.
Came home one day and the radiator was empty.Where did my hyacinth go?I didn't ask, I thought of its unopened buds, mixed with fish bones, plastic bags, and even some human limbs in the garbage disposal site, there was a click, and the machine rang...
I suddenly understood why someone said: If you can't give her a good life, loving her is killing her.
Thirty-five years later, Charles and Camilla are finally married.It is said that the British people were very unhappy, and some people rushed out to say that he should be deprived of his right of inheritance, and the throne should be given directly to his son, the beautiful young Prince William.Is this a threat?I guess Charles must be thinking in his heart: whoever loves whomever is afraid of whom.
He doesn't live in the Black Forest or by the Swan Lake, only princes in fairy tales can stay young forever with jade face powder. He is getting older every day, and the fifty-seven-year-old prince is as ridiculous as an eighty-year-old boy.The British royal family has always had a tradition of longevity. His grandmother lived to be 101 years old. The famous Queen Victoria held the throne for 65 years. When she passed away, the eldest son Edward VII was like a Chinese cabbage in winter. After waiting for the crown prince for sixty years, his hair was gray and he could no longer bear the weight of the crown, so he died nine years later.
Looking at these lessons learned from the past, Charles probably couldn't help but feel chills in his heart.
Hasn't he spent half his life being trained as the No. 1 Tianzi?He studies history, philosophy, archaeology, he studied at Cambridge University, he can fly a fighter jet, he likes hunting, fishing, listening to opera, painting... He is not yet a king, but he must demand himself by the king's standard.
He loved Camilla then, but what he wanted was not a wife, but the Queen of England.Diana, who was born into a famous family and was still a virgin, was the best candidate.She didn't even graduate high school?It doesn't matter, the queen's common words do not exceed 300 common words.
Maybe he didn't expect this marriage to be so difficult.Diana lost weight for a long time. After eating a lot, she used her fingers to pick her throat and forced herself to vomit. Charles once said: "My honeymoon was spent in the sour smell of vomit." She wore a miniskirt to participate in a grand celebration , all the reporters in the audience were lying on the ground holding their cameras, waiting for her to avoid being exposed when she curtseyed.She later had affairs again, and they were full of bodyguards, riding instructors, car dealers... men who couldn't get on the stage.Her lover betrayed her again for money, and let the whole world watch her jokes and see how he wore a cuckold.
If he has already ascended the throne, he will not divorce. With the Duke of Windsor in front, he must not dare to take this risk.But when will he be king?They said that as long as he was obedient, they would give him a candy. He waited and waited, and suddenly lost a tooth-even if he got the promised candy, would he still be able to eat it?
He ended up divorced and admitted to the world that he had always loved Camilla.It's not that he doesn't have the opportunity to meet other women, but he has to put on fancy clothes, dye his gray sideburns, behave elegantly, and make good puns... Are you tired?I think he was also discouraged.And Camilla is such an old friend, a bit rough, hunted, went to the party without even taking a bath and changing into an evening dress; You can even see the panties.Then of course she wouldn't pick on him, he could just loosen his tie and lie on the sofa for a while, and when he was asleep, he would snore and drool all over the floor.She would get a blanket to cover him with.
His mother is not his, but the queen; his sons are not his, but the future king; Diana is a fairy tale; in fact, only this woman belongs to him.
He finally decided that he no longer wanted illusory possibilities, but only a woman who could warm the quilt at night.
It is said that this is love.
It was raining, and in the busy streets, I was looking for the place where I was in love.
If I believe my memory, there used to be a tree standing here, in the early summer there was a tree of cloud and smoke, and when it rained, the petals flew like silk.You once handed me a pink flower and told me its name is Albizia julienne.
But at this moment, there are tall buildings behind me, and behind them are still tall buildings; in front of me are buildings, and the left and right sides of the buildings are still buildings.I am lost in the urban forest and all compasses can't help me.
Where do I go to find where I've been in love?
The rain kept talking all kinds of nonsense in my ears. They said that they used to be streams rushing to the river, a cup of mellow tea on the table, and tears on the cheeks of lovers.They say that everything that exists will pass away, and they say that everything that ever existed will never pass away.
Now it's early summer, and now it's raining again, every rain is similar, how can I tell which rain has wet your clothes, which rain has used to hide my tears, and which A rain has been falling continuously in my life.
Where do I go to find where I've been in love?
Treat the telephone poles as the descendants of flower trees, the gas pipes as the incarnation of the river, the skyscrapers as the face in the mirror of the green mountains, and everyone who hurried past me as you after you grow up.
Is it the only way to find the place where I have been in love?
And what about the big rock?You once said that it is our three life stone.Carve our names on that stone, and ask for a wish that the sea will never rot.where is it nowWithout it, who's going to help me remember everything that happened and didn't?
How did it start with you?Who met who, or did we meet youth together?How did it end with you?Who forsaken whom, or time forsaken us together?
It is raining in the sky, can every drop of rain always remember every entanglement in its life experience?Will you always remember what kind of mountains and rivers you have met?
can i always remember you
The you in my memory is getting blurred day by day, and it's not even you anymore, it's just a little bit of heartbeat in the process of getting along with you.What can not be worn?Even in memory of you.
Where am I going to find you young?
Where am I going to find my younger self?
I looked down and saw myself, wearing this season's popular long skirt, as one of the thousands of girls popular in this city, and I changed with the world.
If you pass by me and still have my original image in your heart, will you stop at this moment and recognize me?
Will I recognize you again?
It's like two drops of rain that once walked through the world together meet again in the sea, will they recognize each other in the turbulent waves?
If you just walked by indifferently, then who will tell me where to find the place where I once fell in love?
Come on, I love, let's do this dance.
If love is shoes, then it must be the red dancing shoes in fairy tales, and after wearing them, you have to dance continuously.Marriage is such a dance.
This is a dance of a lifetime.
Continuously dance from the unit to home, from the vegetable market to the kindergarten, from your side to the outside world, every night is just a short pause between dances, until dawn, the dance music starts again.
I love, on such a night, when you are resting your tired feet, do you also think of the past?
We have also dreamed of a pair of red dancing shoes like a little girl in a fairy tale.At that time, I thought that love is the gratification of two feelings, and marriage is to stay with the one who loves each other. The bride is the most beautiful woman in the world, and the groom is the happiest man in the world.
It's not that no one has warned us that marriage is a long dance, an endless dance, accompanied by love, responsibilities, and troubles.What many mortal couples have to face is the drumbeat, which determines the rhythm of the dance.
However, I love that some things must be learned before they are learned, and once they are passed, it is too late.
We put on the red dancing shoes amidst the sound of blessings.
From what moment do we want to escape this dance?Is it the third time I burnt my meal, and the fifth time you can't find a shirt to wear?Since when did we start to walk in disorder, step on each other's feet, and feel exhausted physically and mentally?Since when did we want to take off our red shoes like a little girl in a fairy tale?
In order to take off her red dancing shoes, she gave up her feet.What are my feet?It is the waiting of the whole youth, the ordinary happiness of life, and it is you.can i lose youIt's like asking a circle, can it lose its arc?
Come on, I love, let's do this dance.
Don't, don't blame each other for stupidity, don't, don't force me to keep up with arrogant gestures.Let's pause, let the music flow through us like a fountain, let's count its beats, and let's do this dance.
I will gradually understand your every hint, you will gradually understand every look in my eyes, this is the only dance in our life, we have to dance well.You will always hold my waist, and I will always hold your hand. If it can be as simple as one posture for a long time, then this is our choice.
Dancing through Momo's journey, dancing past fleeting years, let the red dancing shoes become a part of our life, happiness is just a dance.
Come on, I love, let's do this dance.
I was thinking about your afternoon sunshine in the heavy rain in Beijing, how you opened a door and said in French: "Good day." You hurriedly said in E-mail: "Today I spent half a day at Versace, and finally bought a pair Waist skirt. I remember that shot in the fragrance of the clothes. I’m tired, so I won’t talk about it.” And I made a cup of tea and turned to page 83 of the “Paris Shopping Map”: Versace Women’s Department, 64-66, RUE SAINTS PERES.That's how I saw you.The city you walk in, but I can only read.With paddles and oars of words, I follow you.
What you described, the encounter with that handsome man, you said that you drank the slightly iced North African Tesia, but in LESETAGES?The most famous North African restaurant in Paris?You said that in Shakespeare's bookstore, someone took out a book of love poems and handed it to you from among the messiest books in the room.You don't know what happened between giving and receiving.I'm on MSN, and I can only mutter to you: Shakespeare's Bookstore is on page 25 of "Paris Biography", facing Notre Dame de Paris... The business hours are from midnight to twelve o'clock.I love, why don't you come home at night, why don't you want to sleep?
Occasionally you send a photo, not without haggard, linen shirt wrinkled.You are not March, but the Black Tower in the Black Forest.I read you, love and hate in images.You said you went to see the art exhibition, Picasso's, and you cried silently in front of Michelangelo's sculpture.I say to you: the image can be the greatest atrocity, like Picasso; it can also be a theater of sound and light, like Michelangelo.And the same bright moon cannot be seen exactly the same in two pairs of different eyes.You ask me: what exactly are you talking about?I am silent, why can't I use the simplest language: I hope that people will live a long time and share the beautiful beauty of thousands of miles.
How on earth should I find you?Your body or in the streets of Paris, your soul may be in the image, so in your dream, do you hold a teddy bear?And you are the woman who left for the apricot blossoms and the small white broken flowers, just like looking for love, looking for the destiny of a lifetime.You said you went to Germany and browsed the dollhouses, a lot of little dolls, living quietly in their little rooms.
When we fall asleep, they should wake up. Marriage and marriage, love and hate, should be the same as us.You were so pleasantly surprised that you took a picture of your phone and said to me, "That's the most common scene in movies. Luxurious electric trains, poor children leaning on the glass windows with shining eyes - not everyone can meet I went to the rich grandfather to buy it for him." You said that, I remembered this sentence in your letter, but I couldn't answer it.I love, what do you want?What you want is something I can't give.If I can, I would like to hold your hand and follow your footsteps, take the Rothenburg Toy Tour, Nuremberg Toy Tour, visit the old teddy bear shop, visit the hometown of wooden toys - I even, would like to To be your puppet, to give you a new life.
How should I love you and imagine you?Would you drink fiery, slightly bitter rum at Chateau Nicolas in the Madeleine?Do you like Gartner's butterflies?It is said that it is the skeleton that guards life and death; and I, can I give you a box of building blocks?Splice my life with yours.
So my love, if one day I go to where you live and walk, please understand that this is the only way I love you.Lover, where are you going?I'll go as well.
I met her in the History Museum in Xi'an.
She is in the window, on the label, it says "Han Dynasty Female Painted Figurines", but she is completely white, and time is like sandpaper, stripping away all the colors in her life.The only thing left is a blush on the lips, quietly, at the end of the years, conveying all the dreams of the woman of two thousand years about beauty and love.
That touch of red lips that travel through time and space...
If possible, I very much hope to design a set of lipsticks with twelve colors and twelve moods.
The first lipstick is called "Yuanqi", which is the color of a newly bloomed rose in the misty morning, the most delicate light powder, as if the childishness and unreasonableness of springtime, with a little shyness and tenderness, exaggerated little by little The encounter between flowers and seasons is clearly two-phase surprise, but relatively silent, just a faint scent of flowers in the wind.
The second lipstick is called "Pure Love", and I want to steal a healthy and beautiful blush from an eighteen or nineteen-year-old girl—the kind that can't help but blush when you see the silhouette of the person you like from a distance.Simple years, simple heart, even the thoughts are clean.So this kind of lipstick will be pure and not mixed with anything else.
The third lipstick is called "First Kiss", which is the color of the first rose in life.Red like dripping blood, blooming with all its strength, the first but most sincere love will finally pass from his heart to her heart at this moment.And even if the days that have passed have gathered into a sea, who can forget the trembling joy of the first kiss?
The fourth lipstick is called "Passionate Love". Besides flames, what kind of color and heat can it be?The madness of passionate love is such a blazing flame, it is the most relentless effort in life, enduring all the pain of being burned, willing to turn all of oneself into ashes, as long as it is possible, it will really burn once.
The fifth lipstick is called "Sauvignon Blanc". It uses raspberry red, which is a slightly sour purple and a deeper red.Missing, always like this, his tenderness and sweetness in the memory are sweetness that cannot be melted away, but leisurely, thinking of his coldness, imagining his loneliness, so gradually, it has been sour in my heart, forcing people to tears.
The sixth lipstick is called "Big Marriage". Of course, you must choose the hottest and brightest red, just like the sun.Even the sun stayed for them, on her lips, in his shining eyes, in the love she entrusted herself to for life, in his broad embrace, warming their future forever.
The seventh lipstick is called "Holding Hands", which is the dark red color of Longfengzhu.Two candles, relying on each other, burn quietly together in the darkness, cast their own light on each other, each is each other's light source, always stand far away, as if they are very strange, but their light, in the air Blend into lakes.
The eighth lipstick is called "Flirting", how to describe it, it's normal and warm?It can only be said that it is the sweet fragrance of red cream on the big cake.No matter how hot and boiling the passion is, it probably won't be able to withstand the innocence of daily life. It gradually precipitates and condenses, and a layer of cold film is covered on the surface.So there must be festivals and celebrations, there must be waves from time to time, and when she looks back, her lips are so beautiful that they are dripping. It seems that the time is reversed in an instant, returning to the beginning of the encounter.
The ninth lipstick is called "Aventure", the most amazing and also the weirdest, it is poppy's most beautiful and deadly red.Its color, its fragrance, every piece is an irresistible temptation. When you touch it, the whole person will gradually soar up and experience great pleasure—however, you don’t know the price until everything happens. What is it, but is it really too late?
The tenth lipstick is called "Luoqing", which will change with the weather and seasons.If you love it, you want it to live, and if you hate it, you want it to die. If you want it to live and you want it to die, it is called "confusion". It is always volatile, and love and hate are entangled. Always red - as if the guy who keeps calling the guy a "dude" goes and buys him a jacket.
The eleventh lipstick is called "Gongbaitou", which is a "glaze red" as simple as earth.When porcelain is just clay, a layer of red glaze is applied to it. After the flames, high temperature, and danger of failure, that redness will penetrate deeply into the texture of the porcelain. It is restrained and silent, but it lives and dies with it.The color of glaze red is not bright enough, not eye-catching enough, but no matter the years, weather or scars, it can never be mottled.
The twelfth lipstick is called "Fate of Next Life".At this point, I no longer need any color to embellish my life, just some transparent oil to moisturize my gradually drying lips and your eternal name on the lips.Destined, there will be one of us waiting quietly at the gate of heaven, waiting for the arrival of the other, smiling at each other under the setting sun, and greeting lightly: "Here you are?"
The name of this set of lipstick is called "Sheng Sheng Shi Shi".
It was Lichun that day.
In the early morning, I was awakened by a phone call. On the other end was the voice of a familiar little girl gasping for excitement, as fresh as a new leaf outside the window: "I know, I know what love is. Love is what he holds in his hands."的那一束玫瑰，血一样红，岁月一样永远，而生命就是一千个春天的组合，从一朵玫瑰开到下一朵。”隔着电话，我也看得见她眸子里欲滴的泪。
十九岁的小忘年交，一直有恬静的笑容和桃红的脸颊，忽然无端消瘦，不自觉地恍惚，而眼睛熠熠生辉，开始打来莫名其妙的电话或者写来同样不知所云的信，有时是眼泪，有时是感慨，更多的时候是不断地追问：“爱情到底是什么？”而爱情，大概在我们生活中为数不多，要亲自去探索真相的问题吧？
那一天，实在是忙，晚上还有绝对不能不去吃的饭，可是因为喜悦着她的喜悦，忍不住就在饭桌上重复了她的话。
左侧的女士喷了一口烟，在薄荷气息里她艳妆的脸像一朵看不真切的花。她轻轻笑一声：“真是太年轻了。大概要到我们这种年纪，才会知道。爱情呢，不过是蛋糕上的奶油，永远是甜的软的香糯的。吃尽以后，才暴露出来底下的蛋糕，也许已经干得发裂，也许已经长了绿毛，可是能怎么样呢？蛋糕都已经买回来了。生命也就是这样一块蛋糕吧。”烟在她手里烧尽了。
就在一低头的瞬间，她暴露了自己的年龄。那些繁华统统落尽了，呈现在我眼前的，是一个寂寞的女人。
酒席散了，陪一位同事回家。她，花白头发下庄重的黑大衣，一脸抚不平的皱纹在告诉我她已经和那“死老头子”吃不在一块、住不在一块、生死无关的时候仍然是平静的。春天的夜，依旧冷，我说：“总有过，爱情吧。”
她沉默了一会儿，然后说：“有吧。但是，不是她们说的那样。也许，爱情就像玻璃对着阳光反射出来的光环，七彩缤纷，光华夺目，那一刹那是天上人间，奇迹般的美。可是太阳从来不走回头路，一生一世，只有一次机会阳光会照在你身上，让你看到这样的奇境，然后太阳就离开了。你手里剩下的就只是一块暗淡无光的普通玻璃。”
回家的时候，是一个人走在江堤上，江一直在我脚下纠缠不休地诉说。蓦然间，她们的声音又都在潮声中涌现。这三个女人，站在生命的三个驿站遥遥相望，就好像所有在时光的河流里彼此对看、却永远不能互相靠近的女人，用自己的一生来探究爱情的本来面目。懂得了她们的答案，也就是懂得爱情对女人一生的伤害吧。
这是春天，这是最美丽的春天晚上，而我静静地流下泪来。
没有人能忽略这样一张脸孔：泪痕纷披，呜咽声声：“求求、求求你们。”褐发在颤抖，墨镜里，必藏着一双红肿、深陷、因绝望而绝美的眼睛。
她叫苏珊·史密斯，她说：这原本是一个温良秋夜，她开车带着三岁和十四个月大的两个孩子，行驶在静谧的公路上，忽然一个歹徒窜上车，持枪威逼她下车，带着她的孩子们，扬长而去。
而她，只能无助地站在路边，对瞬息消失的车子挥手，喊道：“再见，宝贝们，妈妈永远爱你们。”黑暗冰寒无尽。
全美国都为她哭泣祈祷。却有一个女子投书电视台：苏珊在说谎。
女子说：她也是母亲，也曾在山崩石裂瞬间，下车问路，一转头，数步开外的车子被人开走，而车上，有她还是稚婴的女儿。
她说她疯了一般扑向大团尾气和泥尘，手袋脱手而飞。惨号大叫，不知道自己说了什么，旁人也听不懂——她是归化美籍，此刻却忘尽英语，只用母语声声狂呼“救命”或者“放下我的孩子”，再不可能是别的语言了。
高跟鞋妨碍着她，一把拽脱劈手扔过去，她死命追赶。忘了人的速度不可能与车辆抗衡，看不见脚下的石砾、玻璃屑、柏油，唯一的念头就是：女儿。她只是一个纤细亚裔女子，那一刻却如豹如鹰，势如疯虎，连歹徒也被吓到了，弃车而逃。
所以她说，那一刻，没有一个母亲，会如苏珊般高贵沉着。
九天九夜的追捕，孩子们终于找到了，是在冰冷的湖底。苏珊，终于向警方自首，的确是她，因为一点儿情欲的贪念，亲手杀了自己的孩子。
1994年的事了。偶尔在一本书里，读到前因后果，和那陌生女子的信。我低一低头，其实并没有泪。我想我懂。
我尚不及为人母，却曾站在高处，看着爱人轻快远去，他是急着，赶另一个女子的约会吧？真相凄厉地，直逼眼前。不是不知道，在泪落之前应该说再见。我却做不到，因为我爱他。
我开始虚伪，听着谎言却装做一无所知；我学会窥探，四处打听如蛇之祟行；我的故事越编越好，只为让他多留一分钟。
最后，我打了他一巴掌。
真干脆痛快，是一切一切的收梢。出手的瞬间，像那位绝望的母亲，远远掷出她的高跟鞋。掷中没有？not important.
有多爱，就有多不舍；有多温柔，就有多暴烈。爱得唇边有血，眼中有泪，胸口有纠缠的爱和恨，爱到如连体婴般骨肉相连。割爱，就一定不可能，如拈去一片花叶般轻松微笑。
明知留不住，收不下，却不能自控我颠倒狂乱的脚步。那一遭，我是夜深街上，追逐汽车的女子。而我无声的哭泣，他没有听见。
直到30岁，薇薇都是一个乐在其中的限量版爱好者。她用粉红色的诺基亚限量版7610手机；穿一双耐克限量版球鞋——懂行的人才能看得出那是高仿；迪奥限量版太阳镜（同上，是高仿）轻轻地挡着阳光，也挡住了薇薇睥睨众生的眼神。
她不是贪慕虚荣，而是她恨死雷同、庸俗、泯于众生……如果她是花朵，她愿意是雪封的黑森林里一朵不合时的梅，也可以是我花开时百花杀的菊，就是不能做黄四娘家那千枝万朵压枝低里的一朵。怎么能够，满街都穿煤炭色灯芯绒小牛仔西装，薇薇也照样来一件？这就意味着品位平凡、眼界有限，完全没有脱离街坊大妈的庸俗境界。人世浩繁，薇薇甘为限量版，有一种鹤立鸡群的骄傲。
因此，薇薇也爱限量版男人。她不能接受普通劳动者，他们没有品位和趣味，太廉价；也看不上满大街营营役役的白领们，他们不过小有资产，小有资色，一式的黑西服白衬衫是千人一面；自然，薇薇也承认，豪门梦仅仅是一个适合在晚上做的梦。因此，她寻找的，只是一个限量版男人：较为出类拔萃，但没有好到让人仅具艳羡的份儿，精致，同时实用，眩目，也不至于昙花一现。
薇薇终于找到了他，一个珠宝鉴定师，精巧的专业人士，这职业已经足以限量他。男人用ZIPPO限量版打火机、GUCCI限量版皮带，与薇薇花前月下时，开一瓶伏特加，他特地说明是从机场带回来的限量版。因为限量，所以，薇薇不用与任何人分享，而独享，是一种极大的欢喜与拥有。
薇薇的限量梦破碎在她三十岁生日那一天。隔着天桥，她看见她的限量版男人，和另一个自己在一起。的确，另一个自己，这不是一部科幻电影或者一部名叫的小说，虽然那个女子比薇薇高，年纪也比薇薇小，但她胸前也挂着诺基亚限量版粉红色手机，也穿耐克限量版球鞋（是真的不是高仿），女子提着的凯瑟琳限量版包包——薇薇心酸地低下头——她买不起。
薇薇就是这样想通的：限量版其实更容易撞车。没错，它数量少，这就更决定了，好这一口儿的人，非买这个不可。而有相同的爱好，外加相同的偏执，大概在生命的其他方面，也会接近吧？就好像黄昏总与黄昏相似，星星和月亮总离得很近。这一群想标新立异的人，总不得不撞在一起，撞成小小的尴尬。
薇薇很惭愧不能回到手工时代，那时真是一样一件，也没有财力去巴黎亲自定做，既然如此，薇薇想，何必追求那限量两千或者两万的做作？
她从此漫步市场像牧羊人在草原散步，买东西就像新买一只咩咩叫的小羊羔。她不在乎撞衫或者撞包，如果邻家有一只羊与自己的相似，只说明它们有血脉里或远或近的联系。而薇薇，因此与陌生的女子，成了某种意义上的姐妹。
薇薇知道，她那单纯而又矫情的限量版青春，已经结束了。
职业爱
男人大多有贪婪心，渴望三千红袖只向他一人招，女人们全都“一见某某误终身”——以上“某某”处，可自动代之以源氏、杨过、白景琦等人。最近被代入的，大概是《金枝欲孽》里的孙白杨。他不过是一个小鼻小眼的医生，却是超大型香饽饽。家里一个忠心耿耿的，青楼一个红颜知己，皇家后宫三个愿意同生共死的……当然这是不可能的，但如果不谈历史呢？
他这样一个男人，细细看女子气色，注意力不在她的粉白黛绿，而是脂粉下的憔悴；他嗅到她上火引发的口臭而面不改色，全无嫌恶之情；他关切地问她：“最近睡得好吗？有什么不开心的事吗？”最后，他的手轻轻搭在她腕上。终于有一个机会，她与男子名正言顺地肌肤相亲。皇宫这么冷寂，她就算能克制自己那蛮荒的情欲，能抵挡得了这一点点人的微温吗？这一刹那，他们之间亲密得无与伦比，虽然，这不是一个医生的诊治行为。
所以，福雅慢性自杀七年，为了能经常见到——为博周郎顾，频频曲有误。而我也在国外医书上，看到相似的案例：一个寄居于兄长家里的老处女，在长期的幽居悒郁中，患上偏头痛，家庭医生每天都来看她，她的偏头痛从此没好过。家人暗暗地嘲笑她，而她蜷缩在冷黑的阁楼里——壁炉在楼下，温暖又明亮——回忆一夜一夜，他按时前来，让她脱下紧身内衣，俯耳听她的心跳，叩叩她仍然童稚未开的背与胸——那是听诊器尚未发明的年代。她听见远处模糊的马蹄声，是医生吗？一阵巨痛袭击了，她发出了断续的呜咽……
理智上都知道，望闻问切是医生的本分，爱护病人也是。“无论至于何处，遇男或女，贵人及奴婢，我之唯一目的，为病家谋幸”，这是一个好医生的不二准则。但，多么像爱情，那承诺给你幸福的，不就是爱人吗？
因此我们，时常将感情与职业混淆，病人爱上医生或者护士，学生爱上老师，明星爱上发型师，粉丝因为某个剧中人物而爱上明星……男或女，都容易被职业品格所吸引，像鹿，无助地羡慕海市蜃楼里的绿洲。
我的女友，每半年换一家公司。她向我赞美A公司技术部的小孩儿如何不辞辛劳用三个小时帮她重装系统；B公司的黑脸保安捡到她丢失的手机，第一时间归还；C公司的新晋主管衬衣袖管笔直且隐隐散有麝香……她苦笑：我知道这一切不过是职业之爱，但，总比完全没有好。
他们始终不是朋友。
年轻时候，他们相好过一场，还生了个女儿。后来各自东西，她写自传体小说，对他口诛笔伐，他过了四五十年，才淡淡地回一句：“认定是负心，是人各有见；认定为落后，是人各有道。”她倒霉的时候，人家整她，要他证明她是三反分子，他说：“杨沫同志直爽、热情，有济世救民的思想。”她好了，他们仍然来往不多，她死了，追悼会张中行都不去。
想起来，也有点儿嗟叹：老都老了，曾经还是爱人……不能做个朋友吗？——大概的确做不成。
情人最好做。烈焰焚身之际，真是人人心中一座断背山，方圆三十公里内，只有一个人、一群羊和几头狼，还顾得那人是男是女、是美是丑、是老是少？情欲发了话，最不搭调的人也能睡在一张床上，就算有小小不言的龃龉，看在那啥的份上，也就算了吧。
夫妻大概也不难做。朝夕相处了那么多年，审美固然疲劳，审丑其实也疲劳了，刺耳的鼾声听熟了，只像睡在火车卧铺上，迷迷糊糊间一程一程的黑夜。对枕边人不满意？不满意的人和事还多着呢：晚饭的牛肉是注水的，老板又拍着桌子吼自己了，这房子整天停电停暖气停煤气。有本事，就全换掉，没本事，能换掉注水牛肉就不错了，其他的，休想。
而朋友，不图什么，只是性情相投，相处愉快，彼此间有一种知性的、温和的喜爱。这样的感情，是一碗白茫茫一片真干净的粥，混一粒沙都难以将就，所以，难做得很。就仿佛，大冬天的，天气是寒冷的，风是锐利的，但是雪莲感受到了太阳又细又尖的抚摸，开放了。密集的雪一层层地压下来，刺骨的寒风在它身上扫过去，它裂成碎片，枯萎，变成冰。它受了诱惑，被阳光骗了，友谊就是这么一朵既脆弱又骄傲的雪莲花，安徒生说它是夏日痴。
都听过著名的割席断交故事，朋友只跑到门外向往了一下仪仗，这边就只见白刃：“子非吾友也。”如果是兄弟姐妹同学情人，都不需要这么决绝吧？断绝了，才说明曾经是真朋友，有真朋友的逻辑。
自然，现代人说到“朋友”二字，多半另有别情。我有一位女友，分手多年的前男友又找上来，说：……还是做朋友吧。她心里暗骂：什么朋友？你心情不好时的知心大姐，你空虚寂寞时候的免费床伴？嘴上笑笑：何必。那么，做什么呢？男人不屈不挠。她忍无可忍，厉声道：什么也不做。
张爱玲的衣橱
对襟V字领白塑料纽扣中庸蓝毛衣，领口处薄薄一层细白衬，齐整的大花好眼熟，可不就是十年前她手捏“金日成”假扮死神时穿的那一件；长袖衬衫领连衫裙，大花、咖啡、蓝紫，端庄得忒老气忒美国，电视节目里常有这样一身洋装、满头白发的美国中部老太太；改良旗袍，不知为什么也是衬衫领；土黄、铁锈红格子大衣，隔着纸页，也看得出肩上那厚厚的垫肩，老气得很——可不是，她去世那年都七十五岁了。老太太的衣橱，都差不多。然而……她是张爱玲呀。
朋友赠我一本最新的《沉香》，集了她一些零碎佚文，我都读过，只是书前附了几十帧她衣服的照片，我倒反反复复看了又看。
说不出那隐约的失望，虽然明知是不应该的。我大约是想寻找一件曳地长袍，最鲜辣潮湿的绿色，露出里面深粉红的衬裙，或者一件苹果绿驼鸟毛斗篷，怯怯地褪了去，再不一件靛蓝水渍的旗袍，垂着流苏或者宝络。哪怕是最寒酸的黑呢大衣呢，也得扣一个小铁船的别针，一点儿出人意料的精致。
张爱玲曾经与这世间，结过华丽缘。都说她顶爱打扮，“旗袍外面罩件短袄，就是她发明的奇装异服之一”。大约跟今年流行的连衣裙外罩小开衫相仿。舅舅见她没有冬大衣，着人翻箱子找出一件皮袄，那还是前清服饰，连里的银娣也觉得过了时。她却如获至宝，立刻拿去穿，“把自己打扮得像我们的祖母或太祖母，脸是年轻人的脸，服装是老古董的服装”。
胡兰成的侄女儿，过了六十年还记得她的，说她是写字的，人不漂亮，可是那衣服：“格个辰光，伊个服装跟别人家两样的……伊是自己做的鞋子，半只鞋子黄，半只鞋子黑的，这种鞋子人家全没有穿的。衣裳做的古老衣裳……跟别人家两样的，总归突出的。”
正是踌躇满志、提刀自立的当口儿，张爱玲对未来没打算，只有浪漫的幻想，“（老了）可以穿长大的袄裤，什么都盖住了，可是仍旧很有样子；青的黑的，赫黄的，也有许多陈年的好颜色”。雍容如史太君。
她晚年有穿过中式袄裤吗？不太可能，好歹她也生活在美国。众人眼中的她：轻便衬衫；暗灰薄呢窄裙洋装，配紫红丝巾；素净的旗袍——只是“素净”，没“烟痕色”、“细麻纱”这些花头；近乎灰色的宽大灯笼衣。有她的仰慕者形容她的裙子亮如佳洛水海岸，是张派女作家一贯对颜色及用词的迷恋吧，作不得准。都说她晚年主要穿拖鞋，家里穿，出外也穿，随买随穿随弃，因此照片里有那么多双新崭崭的，像公共浴室的用品，看不出一点儿私人的偏好，是纯粹图实用。
但她曾经是恋衣狂，热烈地爱，更热烈地写。而当她老去，不吃零食，不买新衣，也极少写字，更拒绝见人，她不再与人发生恋眷或缠绵，她一定是想干干净净地把自己与世界隔绝开来。当她还年轻，她便感慨人生是一袭华美的袍，爬满了蚤。
的确爬满了蚤，却是一件廉价、簇新、粗糙得毫无性格的所谓洋装。不再买心爱的衣服，大概意味着，张爱玲抛弃对人生的华丽想象。
这收梢，其实毫不苍凉，只是绝望。只是，她已经不能再被绝望所伤，因为，她不再对这世界怀有希望。
她七十了。她皱纹很深，眉眼低垂，脸孔有一种阴森的气息，像骑着扫帚的巫婆。然而……她穿艳粉格裙配白色衬衫，孔雀蓝开衫，白短袜像一个十七岁的中学生。
她离过两次婚，第一次婚姻的儿子归了男方，中年之后才与她重认，感情淡漠得很。她等于什么亲人也没有，晚年独居在东京一个十平方米大的小公寓里，没有浴室，她每天去街上的澡堂洗澡。房里只有一张床，她每天在那张床上吃饼干、喝冰红茶、写字、睡觉……住了十年，从不打扫，后来要搬走的时候，已经杂物积了一米多深，工人揭开上面的一两层，发现下面的已经朽成泥了。
她叫森茉莉，是耽美小说的鼻祖，也是名作家森欧外最宠爱的女儿。明明她上有兄长，下有弟妹，父亲却说：“茉莉成长的岁月，是我最快乐的日子。”父亲伏案写作时，还把幼年的她抱在膝上，这一幕，被友人画成匆匆的素描。五十年后，森茉莉细细回忆自己的童年：专门从欧洲订制的彩衣，花绣如蓝孔雀森林；看的图画书、用的蜡笔都是进口的；银匙、银杯、每天午后的一块小蛋糕，都是最好的。她是家中的小公主，她的父亲，是她全部的小宇宙。
十八岁，她随丈夫去欧洲旅居。父亲来车站送行，在火车开动的一刻，默默地向她点了两三下头。茉莉满脸是泪大哭起来：“那温柔的蔷薇刺，在我心脏中间，现在扔扎着。这简直是恐怖的恋爱。”一年后，父亲去世，死后两天才被人发现，而那时，茉莉在欧洲。
她人生华美的上阕戛然而止，她是失掉了水晶鞋的公主，重新成为灰姑娘。“生了孩子也不会照料，对扫除、洗衣、裁缝等家务皆无能，同时还犯了奢侈的毛病。这样的生活需要一点魔法才行。”没多久，她离了婚。再婚给一位仙台大学的教授。一次，丈夫让她去东京看戏，戏散后回家，她发现自己的行李被丢在门外，箱子上附了一封休书……人生经得起多少蹉跎呢？她终于成为一位潦倒的老太太。
大概是为了稿费，晚年她开始写作，大部分散文都是回忆父亲，回忆童年，她念念不忘父亲送过她的礼物。“自打我出生在这个世界上，最初缠绕在脖子上的，是父亲送给我的镶嵌式的项链。这项链是从柏林的商店里买来的，上面标着森林太郎的名字，经过西伯利亚的旷野，寄到了位于千驮木町的家中。”一顶帽子、东京最近的粗野风俗，一切都让她想起他。她的爱，躲在亲情的圣洁帷幕里，很安全。
更狂热的，是她的小说。她笔下，尽是俊美的中年男人与少年人的爱情，相爱、相伤害、难舍难分又不能长相厮守。文学评论家这样说她：其实在茉莉的宇宙里，始终只有两个人，她与父亲。固然同性恋是禁忌，但父女恋是更大的禁忌，所以不得不用小禁忌来置换大禁忌。年老年少的两个男人，实际上是父亲和女儿的化身。为什么是少年而不是少女？因为，茉莉不容许别的女性侵入她和父亲的小世界。
森茉莉的一生，像不像一则拙劣的寓言故事：不能溺爱儿女。要教会他（她）做人、生活、照顾自己及他人……否则爱他（她）就成了害他（她）。但我知道，我们都知道，茉莉不是不幸福的，她曾经被一个男人，非常彻底地爱过，即使为此付出一生的代价，她也愿意。终其一生，她是父亲的小女儿。
而对绝大多数女子来说，这是唯一的可能，能够被一个男人，百分之百地爱吧？而那一首歌，叫做《爹地的小女儿》：你是我的彩虹，我的金杯，你是爹地的小小可爱的女儿……