"Positive"

Time wasted is the truest form of death among the living, shut like a coffin in the sex-washed wind of the purple night.

Then there is purpose. Suddenly there is the surprise of new life, of a story passed on generation to generation, of a legacy.

And it is beautiful as it is "Magic".

---

The blog is back as the secret is out!! My wife is pregnant and I am going to be a dad sometime next April.

"I"

I am spring’s soft rain against your face,
bringing warmth of love’s embrace.
I am the smoked autumnal mist
mysterious, dark and full of tease.

I am the cry of the newly born,
or simply the greatest love you have ever known
I am your desolation and your pain,
the boiling blood flowing through your veins

I am the office worker’s pounding feet,
the daily commuter’s mundane beat.
I am the wolf that roams the night,
the silent cobalt’s lightning strike.

I am all the reasons you will never know,
dreaming the dreams you always wanted.
I was your birth. I am your death
and I will be your eternal breath

妻管炎

时间看了我的报告，告诉我，“你得了妻管炎。”。

“医生，那是什么病？”

“简单来讲，就是怕老婆。病因分两种。一是夫妻间拥有不平等的地位和权威，以致妻压过夫。第二种是因爱，因为太爱，因为太尊重。怕她生气而伤身；怕她郁闷而生皱纹；怕她不开心而没有灿烂的笑颜；怕她受委屈而难过掉泪。绝对不能让自己心爱的女人受到一点点的伤害，尽其可能予安全感。而“安全感”也无非就是一种风来、雨来、哪怕是天塌下来，都会和她一起“顶着”“扛着”“挡着”和她一起承受，无论穷富，永不离弃的一种“感觉”而已。”

“那。。。有得医吗？”

“如果是第一种病因，医疗方案倒不少，成功恢复率达八成。不过，我看你属第二种，而且已经病入膏肓。”

“那么。。。我还有多少时间？”

“最坏打算，一辈子。你最好有心理准备。”

“医生，不要让我老婆知道，我怕她担心。”

“咳，你真是无药可救。不过，有些事就算不说，她也一定会知道。”

“谢谢你。医生”

“祝你做个幸福的病人。”

谁是狼？

知道东北那些人是怎么杀狼的么？

在锋利的三角刮刀外面冻上厚厚的羊血。然后把刀柄冻在雪地里等狼来上钩。狼舔过刀子的时候会割到自己的舌头，会尝到它自己流出来的血。因为刀子把他的舌头割破了，于是更加努力地去舔食，却不知道那原来是他自己的血，终因失血过多而死去.......

如今，奸人当道，欺诈拐骗，无所不精。他们未必拥有过人的智慧，却懂得利用人性的弱点，为达目的。人性的弱点就是“贪”。不过“贪”其实也是人类的优点，由贪而争，由争而动，成为社会的基础，进化的动力。奸人却不仅是贪，更存歹意，为其目的，不择手段。姑且不论其受害者是否无辜或技不如人，奸人的本质是腐败，是人性的毒药，社会的害虫。

也许是教育的失败，也许是资本主义社会进化的结果，也许是一种不变的天理循环。咬文嚼字 也只得到一堆哲学论，问题没有解决。有人被骗，就有人获利。又有谁希望是被骗的那方？此乃基本生存之道。

非也。因为彼此缺少了信任，因此才没有互利的观念。因贪而生疑，变得以小人之心度君子之腹。当然，如今又有多少个真君子呢？越不群却无处不在，让人心寒。

曾经有人说过，信任乃真正的财富。信任一旦失去就万难找回。心一旦腐烂就难以恢复。人要变的聪明，学会自保，却切忌莫被眼前的利益蒙蔽，迷失方向，忘了做人的原则。

让我们一起努力，让世界多一份温暖，多一份希望吧。

H2 - 决战前夕

春心莫共花争发, 一寸相思一寸灰。远远的看着你修长的黑发扎着一束大红色绸带，良久。然后，不知不觉地走到你的身旁，瞭望着你也瞭望的孤月。

“今天，听到了所有人的祝贺与鼓励。”

“嗯。”你的回应轻的仿佛听不到。

“但。。。总觉得少了些什么。”我自己都不知道想说些什么。

沉默了良久。夜静无声。心也仿佛停了下来。

“今晚真美。我们也好久没有。。。”什么时候变得这么陌生，真的很久没有毫无保留的互相倾诉了。“想一人静静真难，你总是有办法找到我。”

我勉强一笑。“因为你的心会带你到最重要的地方，挑起感情，引起回忆。。。曾经在这里，跌过，哭过。幸好，当时有你在身边。”深深的吸了一口气，“也许今天。。。只是想听到某人的关心。”

也许是久违的默契，我俩同时相望。你的眼神带着无限温柔的问候。在你水汪汪的明眸，仅是碧绿涟漪的色彩，只有我的影子。而我眼里也只有你那明媚的倩影。彼此就如水晶般透明，不需言语。

我告诉自己，拥有这一秒已经够了。

“好了，夜了。该回家了。你也早点回去吧。” 我的声音在颤抖。

我发现已经无法平静的看着那恬淡简朴的你。只能选择转身，深深吸了一口气后，踏出道别的一步。

“比吕。”多久没有听到你叫我的名字。有一种魔力让我的脚步停下。

“加油。”轻柔的鼓励吹过，一颗心就如此沉了下去。想要踏前，脚底却有千斤重。

“加油。”百川情感一涌而至。我告诉自己，只是一步，忍住疼，重重的踩下去。然后，一步一步保持你我之间最好的距离。

隐隐约约的再次听到“加油”。是你的呼吸在我心里吹走了所有犹豫和矛盾。

想要往前，却连一步的勇气和决心都没有。心就留在原地。

明月当空，身后来了紧紧的拥抱。就这样，忘了什么叫坚持，忘了彼此的身份，忘了身在何处，忘了时间的无情。就这样，绵绵的相思融化，再升华。我闭上眼睛，感觉那身后的温暖，感觉那冰冷的泪透背穿心带着深情的无奈，泪流不止。

爱的脚步，从不由人。我们都清楚，明白。

我爱你。但永远在他之后。

你爱我。但永远忘不了他。

Crossword unsolved

Running in blocks of crossword,
a pen between my toes,
words, in flights of fancy,
took off in numeric rows.

The lines marched on in order
- an expression of escape -
and a comma, not a full-stop
passed sentence by mistake.

Italics leaned lazily,
the bold wrapped up in smoke.
They waited back at base-camp
but still no wordsmith spoke.

The words fought and bled for space,
red crosses past the page,
ignored their printed orders
and deserted in a rage.

In the mutiny that followed
were cries for reinforcements
came screaming was Dictionary
with help from punctuation!

The muddle in blood puddle
dipped slowly into the sea
and it drowned inside a teacup
which was drinking thoughts from me.

Running in circles in a teacup,
the words were ankle-deep.
I took them out and dried them
but they all looked rather weak.

Redundant Alphabet

REDUNDANT ALPHABET by toggle

I was standing in a poem,
a pen between my toes,
books, in flights of fancy,
took off in alphabetic rows.

The lines marched on in order
- an expression of escape -
and a comma, not a full-stop
passed sentence by mistake.

The letters leaned lazily,
the italics had a smoke.
They waited back at base-camp
but still no wordsmith spoke.

The words bled into puddles,
dripped slowly off the page,
ignored their printed orders
and deserted in a rage.

In the mutiny that followed
they got above their station.
Whole paragraphs were now involved,
even punctuation!

The muddle in the puddle
dipped its toe into the sea
and it drowned inside a teacup
which was drinking thoughts from me.

I was standing in a teacup,
the words were ankle-deep.
I took them out and dried them
but they all looked rather weak.

---

Reading poems like this boils my blood even on days like this which feels like a writer’s block. The writer's block, I don’t really believe in it. A better alternate explanation is simply, a lack of inspiration.

When I put down my pen, unimpressed with what little I wrote sitting there, slumped on the page like a sullen teenager mocking me, lacking any life or motivation. Just ink smirked on a page, random words, nothing more.

Redundant is correct. Rheutorical is understating my plight. I've got the Monday blues.

偷得浮生半日闲

举一招牌“失物招领”，望明了者，能解多少解多少，不明者，难得糊涂，呵呵一笑。徘徊在明与不明之间，与心相约，君独长叹。

在迷雾伸手不见五指时，你眼前是谁。在你深爱一个人时，谁陪在身边。当心中之火在煽起之余，片刻间，心又平静如初。

“今日夕阳照独影，人去楼空夜将侵；明日胜景依然在，明日过后还再来。”；

“人生最怕看透，看透再难遇春秀”；

“世事漫随流水，算来一梦浮生！”。

往事多多，如之奈何；甜酸苦辣，亦悲亦乐。数十年去，日月如梭。甜罢苦罢，回头皆乐。生无遗憾，死无愧。

那闲适的心情，无时间的约束，一壶铁观音，以抒乐为伴，浮生半日，难得清闲

Presentation

If you think that you've come here for laughs,
Better pick up your coats, hats and scarves,
Because, truth to tell,
I'm as boring as hell ~
And, when boring, I don't bore by halves.

My performance is dry, dull, and iffy,
And I'll have you glazed-eyed in a jiffy:
Your only defence,
If you have any sense,
Is to knock back the wine and get squiffy.

No, I don't cause uproarious applause,
Or outpourings of adoring 'encore!'s:
The only effusion
There'll be in conclusion
Is an inglorious, ignoramus chorus of snores.

Doctor, Doctor, help me please!!

Am I mentally disabled, or clinically insane?
Either way, something’s seriously wrong with my brain!
My God, you are right, I’m a little strange.
My mind is out of focus, my thoughts out of range.

There’s something quite amiss with this faulty head,
I can’t quite remember what has just been said.
I am not crazy. Words just burst out.
Pardon me, madam. I didn’t mean to shout.

Some say that I’m random! My mind drifts away!
Like the cotton clouds on a breezy summers day!
I much prefer the winter, I relish the crispy air
Mmm… crispy pancakes, where was I, you there?

There are sleepless nights of sheep, and calls to people I know.
“Go and die” they advice repeatedly, to sleep no more is so.
They won’t let me sleep, I complained. Those dreaded dead people.
Look, there’s one beside you, with a scythe and badge reaper.

So Doc, tell me truthfully, is there any hope for me?
If there is, do make it quick, ‘cause I really need to pee.

Oops! Too late.

Sorry for the floor.

中秋

洁明皓月逢佳期，夜 风动人在江岸，一阵秋意撩心动。那满天的清辉，遍地水银，隐射互倾的思念 。想起《碧血剑》里的一首诗：“红红翠翠，年年朝朝暮暮。脉脉依依，时时鲽鲽鹣鹣。”

老去的是岁月，不变的是我的情怀。

祝福花好月圆人团聚，中秋佳节喜兴乐!

征佣启事

岁月如矢，倏忽三十载，遇人无数，昔日的纯朴天真不再。如今，多了份沉着，多了份谨慎，多了份远虑。长期顾家有道的辅助即将离去，但家不可一日无佣。想是危急之秋将近，吾虽躬读於清华，反思再三，仍无良策，以至寝食难安，伤身伤神。叹焉世态炎凉，贤助难求，幸得友人献计曰：可于新闻纸上，出银若干，刊一证人启事，自有有心人。然静心忖度，无妨一试。吾誓以礼相待，以诚相交。

为防招摇撞骗，心怀鬼胎者，征者必备条件十条。

一，自视智理平上即可；缺乏智慧信心者勿扰。
二，思路清晰，口才一流；缺乏表达，理解能力者免谈。
三，以礼相待，以诚相交，坚守三从四德之祖训，乃服务业之本。
四，勤奋好学，与时并进，方能分担解忧之一二。
五，体格健壮，三尺之垣，需一跃而过，有遮风挡雨之能。
六，可谈音律诗画，解风情。 精于查言观色，解人意。
七，肤白身高，端庄靓丽；惊世脱俗者吾请不起，身形样貌欠佳者吾留不下。
八，无烟酒之嗜好，无情债损友之缠身，乃洁身自爱之本。
九，心胸有海量，能忍人所不能忍。
十，一心一意，忠心不二，以吾为尊。

今告白四海：凡属有意者，男女不分，岁限三十（太年轻不懂事，太年老没精力），以书信为介，以己为题，禁吹捧，禁废谈，禁虚构，字限二千，附件自画一幅和诚意三千，现金支票皆可。

原是梦遗

言情，而不悉情之所由始，为心迹而感动，因感动而梦牵，因梦牵而情痴。一种情缘，隐约之中環環相扣，朦朧之中心心相連。恍然，原是梦遗。

是如仙境般的心境。一幅绚丽的夕景，火烧云在蔚蓝底色的天空上连成一片，幻化出满天绚烂的晚霞，也将整片大地印的绯红。山风呼啸，阳光懒散的洒在小溪中，瀑布打下来的水汇成急沿着石道往山下冲去。鱼儿舒服地停滞在湍急的溪流中享受上苍的恩赐，或而轻抖尾鳍，嗖的穿到上游。山涧的鸟雀鸣唱嬉闹。湍水宁鳞，风林静羽。直到夜幕垂落，星点罗布，银月当空，心欲静而不止。

“似此星辰非昨夜, 为谁风露立中宵”

相思苦，相思疼，慌觉天已变色中。雷电肆虐、暴雨如注，幸好，并非孤独，昏沉中，有个熟悉的人陪着，温暖着，守护着。望着你：玉骨冰肌，揮雲而揭雪；花容月貌，尤过沉鱼落雁；蓮步輕移，恍如飛燕之舞；蘭室靜坐，疑是仙姬之居。那柔和脱俗的神态在淡淡的夜光下散发出无限的写意。时有貌似天仙的惊艳，时有娇弱可人的怜爱，时有大家闺秀的矜持，时有小家碧玉的精致。迷光朦胧中，猛然驱进了我的心灵，如那场突如其来的暴雨。使得吾心旗搖動，难克自制。

时间如座停摆的钟，处处是你的身影，你的气息，你的温言细语，你的坚定，你的痛楚，你的欣悦和你的沉默。你是天上的月，皎洁而明亮，你的光芒滋润我的生命，让我尝到幸福之味；你是水中的月，靠近却不可企及，唯恐在我掌中破碎成幻影。你是云，变幻不定，每种姿态，都叫我心醉不已。你是风，随心恣意，拂过竹林，每片竹叶都为你吟唱，越过山川，回音里都是你的气息。

我握紧你颤抖的手，给你取暖，庆幸红颜知己伴身旁。雨步渐停，夕阳渐显。绿水青山，花开人间，只因你嫣然一笑。

矛盾

我是一个矛盾的个体。夏天时，期盼秋天。而秋天时，又想念夏天。吃不到时日想夜想，吃得到时却没胃口。在家闷着想出外，出外时又想回家。工作忙碌想休假，休假时怀念工作。一度喜欢雷雨前浑浊而又沉重的天气和雨过天晴的的明亮，它能给人带来即躁动又平静的心境。听着雨的哭泣，那么的伤感，那么的温柔？在玻璃窗上的雨痕，带着回忆，带着祝福。当雨停后，彩虹露出灿烂的笑容， 幸福与希望被发酵，被搅拌，被蒸发。

其实矛盾并不是因为不知道自己想要什么，而是有人是善变的。这一刻的你已经变向下一刻的你。如果矛盾需要一种抉择，那么答案当然是这一秒你的想法，仅此罢了。你可以因为无理的决定而任性，你可以会因为随意的果断而洒脱。

这一秒，你想什么？

夏日深思

早晨，泛着白致致的毫光，夏日理直气壮的蔓延。抬头仰望深邃又透明的天，低头而将思念传入掌心，它一线一纹写着你成长的故事。

匆匆跨越的时日，是明日或昨日？悠悠充当了过客，是我或是你？

光阴如箭总是飞逝，一个人，习惯在某个时刻让心也静默片刻。轻叹此生错失过的许许多多，或是某个画面，或是某段情感，更或是某天某地某人。深感不由戚然。

原来，年华已不再花样。

年过三十，骤然惊觉。为何自己沸腾多年以后，还是半生不熟？为何自己登上九百九十九层梯子后，还是不高？

在某种思维定势，一厢情愿的把独自想像强加在某人或某事上，并且深信不疑，哪怕一日真相大白。那是一种自以为是的固执，一种自不量力的愚昧，一种年轻的专利。 而我已不再年轻。

曾经听说过这样一句话，夏与冬有极大学问，可从其中衡量自己。

温之既至，华之欲放，迎接着寒之既临，叶之欲黄。一切循环不息，连绵不绝。没有永久的温，也没有永久的寒。温而后寒，寒而后温，故而温也好，寒也好，
不为温所动，不为寒所畏，温时思寒，寒时思温，是谓清醒。你清醒吗？

寒而不改叶，亦唯自制而能为。你自制吗？

温时不发烧，寒时不心寒，便有淡泊之境。但看云舒云卷，雨生雨息，日出日落，雪压雪溶，而心之悠悠，情之切切，意之澹澹，是谓特立独行。以不变之心应万变之境，还有比这更坦然豁然的吗？

浮生虚度，俗世空来。浮生皆苦，万相本无。人都说一死万事空，其实非然。许多事存留着，不堕不灭，无生无死。你能体会多少？

近年，身旁纷纷白纱红宴，亲友对对联谊，心中有一种说不清楚的涩涩之味在涌动。 想到每日在上班途径，都会经过坐躺路旁的老人，踽踽独行，逐渐的如夕阳般沉落老着，岁月沧桑的凄凉。没有伴侣，没有子女，没有亲人。他不强求什么，因为自己什么也没有了。落寞时就一个人在街上闲逛，偷偷的羡慕着牵着儿孙的老人，牵着手的情侣。有时，他把眼里的凄凉悄悄的咽入肚中，期盼逐渐在脑海中成型，希望可以同别人一样的享有天伦之乐，可惜的是他的身体和思念在日子熬过的一天天中失望剧增，脊背弯曲了，不在键朗，脸上的神色也灰暗了，心很快的被失落吞噬着。

而世上许多人，生长在无忧无虑的世界里，被幸福呵护惯了。能够和心爱的人在一起，做想要做的事。同时，幸福逐渐变质。哪怕有一天，你会发现幸福不再幸福，心里的贪念已经吞没了一切。温声提示，幸福不是必然，需好好珍惜。

最后，祝贺所有有情人终成眷属。

To Murder a Violet - The Intro

Violet was running a little late that morning. Her hair was all over the place and the wind was not helping. She scrambled to work, panting for air as she ran all the way from the subway.

She didn’t see the shadow that was following her in a distance.

I waited for her as the night fell silent. She left late that night, almost a quarter to ten. As she strolled off alone, I couldn’t help but followed her, matching her step in step, relishing the feeling we shared. I knew she felt lonely, the kind that no makeup or smile can hide. I knew the moment I saw her, that she would understand me. She would be the only one. Other than you.

Around the corner, she entered an old clock and watch store. Interesting, I thought.

I followed her in.

The drab room reeked with the musty sweetness of damp wood. All around, several filthy and torn chaise-longues and a number of rickety, bent legged side tables were arranged in a hodge-podge manner. On some of the chaises, the furniture was rotten, lazily scattered. The room itself, like its furnishings, had seen better days, I would imagine. The ancient varnish on the wall panels was veined with cracks and flaked like encrusted blisters to a floor which may once have been carpeted, although I was not entirely convinced it was carpet that made the floor seem somewhat spongy beneath my feet.

Above the panels the walls rose, black with the decades' stains, to a ceiling lost in darkness. A single gas lamp on the far wall failed to throw its feeble light far. Somewhere, a clock tick-tocked, its persistent ticking at odds with the discomforting pounding of the heart, sometimes with a sigh or a moan.

"Oh, I’m sorry. We do not have what you are looking for." I overheard the counter lady reply. "Perhaps you should try the Tilbury Clockworks Shop on Main and 56th."

"Thanks. But I have been there and they didn’t have it either." Her voice quivered, hardly hiding her disappointment. Her eyes seeming to follow a moth as it fluttered through the room. I followed her gaze for a moment before realizing that whatever it was she was seeing was entirely in her own befuddled mind. Then her gaze briefly found focus on me. I gave her a smile and a nod.

Her faint return smile hung for a second before she turned to the counter, “Thanks again. I will look elsewhere then.”

That moment, before she made her exit, her eyes landed on me briefly. Calm as I always have been, it sent a shiver down my spine. With a look, she turned the table.

“Pardon me.” I shifted my body with subtlety to block the only entrance and exit. This is part of the psychological game. If you block the exit from the view, then almost instantly she will be inclined to stay. How long she stays then is up to how well you manipulate the interaction. Trust me, I know. I have been playing this game for far too long.

The next 15 minutes went by calculated and precise. I threw in a few secrets of my own to gain her trust. There was a great chemistry I had never felt with my targeted victims. After, when we left together, we had made plans to meet up the next day to visit another shop.

Perhaps. Somewhere inside, I had already started to realize, she was never going to be my victim, as I had became hers.

As we parted, I remembered I had an errant to run.

---

Midnight. Candy pitched forward into the darkness. Twisting and plummeting. The muscles in her arms instantly snapped taut like great iron suspension cords as she scrambled wildly in mid air. All sense of which way up was lost; but the direction was not. Down. Down hard. Down fast. The surface of the water came up to meet his tumbling form. Unyielding and unforgiving, it met him without mercy. She broke the murky surface and the oily blackness consumed him. She couldn’t swim and was regretting never making the time and effort to. She was panicking, fighting for her life. A primal instinct for survival exploded like an electrical storm along her flailing arms and legs. It took over, and made her fight for the surface.

The water was freezing. Painfully cold. Her body’s ability to convert glucose into immediate energy was halving by the second. What little energy she had left was burning low, fast. Muscles were cramping. Her diaphragm had convulsed as she hit the surface of the water. Her lungs had involuntarily tried to fill. The water was thick and dirty as it flooded her mouth and nostrils simultaneously. There was so much of it. She swallowed a few mouthfuls - ice cold, heavy and black water. The absence of air was terrifying. Hers lungs struggled to fill. They were screaming for oxygen. In an instant they rejected the foul fluid, with one almighty explosive, contraction. They then tried to refill again instantly. She reached out, trying desperately to climb through the water. Fighting, kicking, anything to break to the surface. Her clothing, which was already five times its normal weight, was dragging her down, further and faster.

Her limbs finally slowed. A strange, reassuring and almost pleasant warmth spread through her body. She could no longer think clearly, as in her higher brain, vital cells died in their thousands. She was aware of an all-pervading sense of contentment and peace that blossomed, gradually she relaxed. One of the laces on her shoes snagged on an old co-op trolley that laid half submerged amongst the mud and weeds which covered the canal bottom. Her eyes were now wide open, staring vacantly out into the eternal darkness. It was over. As her hand finally unfurled, the photo of a pretty little brown haired girl escaped his grip, and floated up toward the surface.

I sat there watching her in a distance, feeling a sense of pride and fulfillment I can’t really describe. It was beautiful. Pity that I can’t share my stories with anyone. Not you. Not Violet. You would just reduce all my accomplishments with a simple shake of your head. As for Violet, I can’t really predict what she will do and that is why she must never know.

The sea was calm yet again. I picked up the photo and wiped it clean. There are things that even death can’t take away.

Life. If anyone ever told you that it was easy, they lied. Hell is easy, death is easy. But life? Life is hard. One moment, you’re standing on the top of the highest mountain, looking down at everyone else. You look up to the sky and feel the warm glow of the sun. It’s an amazing feeling, a certain carefree and triumph flow through your veins.

But all of a sudden, the floor seems to break away. You slip. Your feet feels nothing but the air and you fall. There are rocks to greet you each time, like old memories that hurt like new. In that instant, you remember the people that really matter. They ignite the courage you have bottomed inside and you get a firm grip on a rock and start to climb. But the rocks continue tumbling, they grow into an avalanche.

There you are, sitting at the bottom of the mountain, in a dark place surrounded by silence. No birds are singing. No crickets crinkling. All alone, with only your thoughts to keep you company. Your palms are bleeding and sharp pain tickles through your body. At that moment, you wouldn’t know to laugh or to cry. That moment, you will just sit there - cold, empty and …. Dead.

Rest well, Candy. May death treat you better than life.

你被诱惑了吗？

诱惑无处不在，今天，你被诱惑了吗？
　　
没有经历过诱惑的洗礼，一种最严格的定力的测验，就没法鼓起勇气说：我不怕诱惑！又有多少人能象大江从不怕悬崖，烈火见真金？诱惑当前，你可拥有一个真男人的坦荡胸怀、率真态度与战胜自我的信心？

诱惑带来美妙的视觉冲击，它唤醒人们内心已经有的一切，欲望、意志或者道德。只需要一刻的动摇，就足于让你坚持的一切崩溃。值得庆幸的是当你下过水，却没有沉沦，那时，你征服了一切，必能满怀自信的坦然而立。

诱惑是罪吗？一些短暂的诱惑，对某些人来说，不过是令他们觉得自己仍然有魅力而已，并不会动真格，至多只是当做生活的一个调剂。它在煽动你内心隐藏的火，关键在于你内心有多少火。

想来，世界是成长了许多，科技发达，资讯流通。那么人呢？现在开放的世界，无奇不有，诱惑以各种不同的方式陷阱缠绕着我们。有人会怕诱惑，是因为怀疑自己的意志力，因为现在的道德观早已沉陷，甚至荡然无存。

又有多少人能无所顾忌，相反的，欣赏着诱惑的精彩？它不是逼人就范，也不是让人追逐，它无非是在那挑逗着你，寻开心罢了。

人们应该感谢春风拂脸，波澜扰心。设想一个没有红唇斗艳、眼神带钩的世界，那该是怎样的闭锁压抑，如同一个人失去梦想，他的内心一定是干涸的。花花世界，有它独特的美。能感知到诱惑还证明你有一颗不僵化的心灵，且比别人多了一分享受生活的快乐。

诱惑又何尝不是人们花花世界存在的一种方式。一座教堂门前草坪上立着一块牌子，上面大书：“如果你对诱惑厌倦了，请进来。”下边用红唇膏写着另一行字：“如果不厌倦，请打电话XXX号。”天使是相对应魔鬼而圣洁的，所以不要害怕诱惑，诱惑是为人们内心正邪两种力量较量而存在的。

男人不排斥诱惑，从某种意义上是对女性的尊重。一个好男人似乎一生下来就挣扎在抗拒各种诱惑当中，而且百炼成钢。

诱惑无处不在，今天，你被诱惑了吗？

The miracle

On the day, my daughter was born, the heavens began to cry. As people rushed in frenzies in and out, I lay shivering and sweating in between the contractions. I didn’t fancy giving birth on a packed rush-hour commuter train racing along at 60 miles an hour, but sometimes, you are left with no choice. Vancouver was experiencing the hottest summer in recorded history. Keeping cool is hard when you’re pregnant and have a built-in, always-on central heating system of your very own, so I had been taking the subway more often than the bus for air-conditioned comfort.

Of course when I say ‘comfort,’ the term is relative. I suffered hugely from heartburn and other digestive woes all through my pregnancy. I was half the size of an aircraft carrier by my fifth month. My due date was August 8 and I worked right up through the last week of July which entailed a daily two-and-a-half-hour commute back and forth. As my pregnancy progressed, just getting to the station in the morning became an ordeal. I began to feel a growing sympathy from overweight people. Shifting my bulk up the station stairs left me huffing and puffing. The looks I got from my fellow commuters make me want to find a hole to hide, my self-esteem falling to the pits. As early as March, the check-out ladies at our local supermarket began wondering aloud whether I was expecting twins, or maybe triplets. By April, people began giving me their seats on the train, jumping to their feet with looks of great concern; occasionally I got those “Not near me, lady” stares. By May I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat more than a few mouthfuls at a time, and had to pee every thirty minutes. As June crawled and sometimes stood still, July finally arrived, bringing even more oppressive humidity and extreme heat. Walking even short distances became ridiculously arduous. Towards the end of July, comfort was a distant memory.

As it happened, I was barely conscious when I went into labor being tired, hot and utterly miserable. My stop was still an hour away when my labor had started. A concerned commuter who is a nurse, asked me if there is someone to call, I told her to let my husband know I was in labor and GET THE HELL over here!! But despite it all, I felt brave.

The good thing about being in Vancouver is people are nice and compassionate, well mostly. Through the pain, there were more and more people gathered around hoping to help. The subway attendant called for the ambulance and medics were soon crowding around me. I was determined for no epidural anesthetic, natural means no pain relief. A kind medic lady stood by my side and held my hand. At one point, she gently extracted her fingers from my death grip and let me dig my nails into her forearms instead. She stood mutely when a contraction took me, and mopped my forehead with her free hand. The look of compassion on her face as I winced and groaned offers the much needed pain relief and comfort. When I saw her the day after my baby was born, she had long pink welts on her slender forearms where my fingers had gripped her.

The contractions were taking on the intensity of a five-alarm fire, the sweat was rolling off me, and for some reason all I could think about was slave mothers having their babies on slave ships. How horrible it would be to go through such pain only to have your baby snatched away from you. I wasn’t worried. I was in agony; I didn’t have room to be worried. Get this baby out! I had begun to holler. I would scream in the middle of a contraction, then grow quiet as the pain faded, I was laughing at myself, at the whole messy, chaotic, incredible business of having a baby. Every contraction produced a flood of water and blood – I couldn’t believe how much stuff I’d had inside me. Much of the time I was too busy wondering where the hell the father is and in a desultory and haphazard manner, trying to follow the various conversations of the medics around me. One of the conversations discussed the wisdom of installing a dishwasher in a small kitchen. God Damn, I am having a baby!! It was surreal: hairdressers and dishwashers – then they’d suddenly enjoin me to push! Harder! – Oh Mary – we can see her head! She’s got dark hair!

‘I am in hell,’ I told room in general. ‘Hell, hell, hell, hell, hell!’ ‘Oh hurry up and get her out, oh hurry up and get her out, oh hurry up’ – Even to myself I sounded like a drunk. Save your energy for having the baby – enough talking! It was at this point that I decided that I must get into a squatting position. After screaming out, the medics decided to humor me, two of them grabbed one arm each and both of them managed to heave my bulk into a sitting position; I took it from there. Good! Now take a deep breath and push! There comes a point in labor when, although you know intellectually that your ordeal will have an end, your own self – your whole identity – becomes consumed by pain and that end is almost beyond fathoming. Squatting there, my whole body engulfed in wave after wave of shuddering torment, I felt as though all time had stopped. Nothing in the world mattered to me more than getting that baby out. I wasn’t me anymore, either: I was just so much sweating, heaving, oozing flesh. A great hulk of pain, a throbbing, pulsing pod desperate to expel a bloody mess. In fleeting moments of clarity, I remembered how women I knew with babies had laughed and said about their labors, ‘Oh, it isn’t so bad.’ Yes it bloody hell was!

Now push! Then there was a whoosh and an explosion of pain and I saw my baby shoot out into the medic’s arms, a slippery fish, pink and wet. ‘A girl!’ they shouted superfluously, and suddenly I was desperate to see her: Show me! I kept calling out. And then I was holding her in my arms. Even as I held her, though, I saw her begin to turn purple and struggle for breath. At least, someone knew what they were doing; the pediatric help was so fast that I hardly had time to panic: in seconds she had cleared my baby’s nose and before my eyes, I watched as purple faded back into healthy pink. My beautiful baby never cried once – not even when she struggled for breath. She just lay quietly in my arms and seemed to take in her surroundings.

In my wardroom, that night, I was still blaming John for not being there. ‘I’m sorry, you do know its not easy to catch a moving train and find out where exactly you are.’ Excuses. But at that moment, I couldn’t be angry at him. She was so beautiful, laying in my arms.

‘See if she’ll nurse!’ someone advised. Our families has gathered to share our joy. As I drew her close, I could tell she was hungry. Everybody oohed and aahed as she went for broke, latching on with all the eagerness of a terrier, sucking with little growls of contentment. ‘What a clever baby!’ they all agreed, and I felt a moment of intense pride. And relief too. Overwhelming relief.

Then they all left us. We lay there in the dark room, my baby and I. For a blissful minute or two, everything was wonderful. I lay there, listening to her tiny infant snorts, stroking her dark hair, counting her fingers and toes. But slowly I began to be aware of a pain that started off as an irritation, then gradually got worse. This was altogether different from a labor pain in that it was not of a cramping nature. It was a searing pain, like a knife slicing through me. And in no time at all it had gone from irritating to painful to agonizing. Suddenly I found myself screaming again and yanking on my call-button for all I was worth. I hugged my baby to me with one arm, afraid that the pain would get so bad I would either drop her or send her flying. As the nurse rushed in, I pointed with my free hand – Down there! Hurts! The nurse took a moment to examine then – as if from far away – I heard her shrieking for help. A doctor came running.

Hours later, when I came to, they told me that I’d had a haematoma. That a blood vessel had burst in the ‘birth passage’ and I had lost a great deal of blood. ‘You were lucky. If you have had anaesthesia, you might have died. The pain saved you.’. There John was, beside me, hugging my baby with one hand and holding my hand with the other.

一杯柠檬茶

“如果你想在三分钟内把柠檬的滋味全部挤压出来，就会把茶弄得很苦，搅得很混。”

银色月光下的轻吻，心形巧克力，玫瑰花瓣雨，无限美的黄昏，烟火瞬间的的绽放，你喜欢吗？而我，只要一杯柠檬茶。

一杯好的柠檬茶需要时间去炮制，需要更长的时间去品尝。看着它在呼吸，等待每一个细胞都张开，守护晶莹细密的水珠点点的凝结，感受柠檬的生命和灵魂慢慢升华，缓缓释放。你可愿意等待十二个小时，为了喝一杯最绝妙、最美味的柠檬茶？　

生命如茶，慢慢的等，细细的品，滋味无穷。

可是，也不可等得太久。茶泡得太久，无法下咽；生命等得太久，淡然无味。

The Dark Alley

It had been a long tiring night. Her feet were sore and her delicate pale skin was blotchy. The sweat, caused by her endless dancing, had blocked the pores in her face. But despite this she was still beautiful, if a little exhausted.

“Thanks mum – I love you ” Carol had said to her as she had climbed into her brother’s car outside the club. It was all she could manage. She had been a little the worse for wear and had decided to call it a night. Before that though, she had to fulfill her responsibility as a friend. She re-entered the club and started looking for Jen. Jen was Jen, as ever, and was trying desperately to get noticed. Tonight, as it turned out, it was a fireman who she settled on. They were laughing and joking by the stairs. After brief introductions, she’d left them to it and went off for a little dance. Some of the other girls from Med school were in tonight. You needed to let your hair down once in a while. The studying was hard going, but it would pay off in the end. She would be a doctor one day, and she knew her parents would rightly be proud.

At the end of the evening as the light came up the toll, bleary eyed and sweat stained, the late owls slowly staggered towards the door. An instant fatigue set in when the music stopped, and their bodies were screaming for rest. Jen caught up with her outside the cloakroom. She was clinging tightly to her newly acquired fireman.

“I’m going back to Brandon’s” she turned as if to check he was still there. She was clinging on tight. “I’ll call you when I get home” she leant closer “or in the morning” she winked and smiled. “don’t worry I’ll be safe”

“You make sure you call me”

“I will mother hen – promise” and with that she turned and waved as she entered the crowd which headed for the door. So the mother hen made her way to the bus stop. Her friends would be fine. They loved to party. But she loved her books. She might be able to get an hour’s study in before sleep overwhelmed her; at least that was the plan. All the hard work would be worth it in the long term. And that was how she liked to look at things, long term.

Just then another lost soul walked into sight. A plume of condensation escaped from his mouth as he rubbed his hands together in a futile attempt to restore some heat. His collars were turned up and his nose was red from the cold. He looked down at her thin pale legs that hung down from her delicate dress.

“You must be freezing..”

She looked across the waiting room but didn’t answer. He was wearing jeans, a denim shirt and a brown corduroy jacket with matching boots. His hair was combed neatly, clean and shaven. Under the dim light, he gave a warming smile.

“I’m sorry. You probably just want to get home. Consider me out of your life”

“No, I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I’m just a little tired that’s all. I think I’m numb.”

“I’m sorry too’ he said as wiped the wet breath from his hand, before extending it “I’m Sam” he extended his hand towards her. She in turn reached out from under her coat, offering her small, soft, childlike hand. She was conscious of her finger nails that were bitten to the quick, but he didn’t seem to notice. She would have blamed the exams if he had said anything. “enchante” he offered. She smiled as he grinned.

“Hi” she said with a little finger wave at her waist, before her hand went back under her coat, “I’m Carol.”

“Had a wild night?

“No. It’s not really my scene. But you have to relax once in a while, you know.”

“Tell me about it.” His smile widened. She smiled back. It’s late but it is always good to have company.

The conversation stuttered momentarily. She smiled, and her deep brown eyes added to the warmth she was able to exude without trying.

“I bought my dad a jacket like that, for his birthday last year” she nodded, using her head to point. Her hands were freezing.

“How old do I feel” he laughed, “but at least you’re a lady with taste.”

She laughed and smiled again.

“What time is the bus?”

“Six, I hope. They come every hour, I just missed the last one - it came early, I hope the next one comes early” That smile again.

“You’ve got nearly an hour” looking at his watch, “you’ll catch your death standing around. Here.” With that, like a gentleman, he took off his jacket and laid it on her.

“Thanks.”, she pulled the jacket closer and instantly felt warmed up. There he stood, even with a shirt on, she could tell he is ripped. He turned and caught her staring. She blushed and quickly turned away. She liked a man strong and gentle, the killer combination. But even more, she liked being treated like a lady.

“Hey, may I suggest a cup of coffee or tea? My treat. I know a coffee shop just round the corner that serves great teas all night. All the workmen working on the rail link love it” he pointed. Then for a moment his lower jaw started shaking as the creeping cold forced it to quiver in a vain attempt to generate heat. “Sorry” he apologised for freezing while stamping his feet for good measure.

The offer hung in the air with the condensation as she considered her options; freeze slowly or thaw out. Some guilt for letting him freeze also nudged her a little - a hot drink would be agreeable.

“You’re on. Let’s go wild”

He curled and extended his arm like a suitor would as if he were leading his lady to a horse drawn carriage. She linked her arm in his and they started walking across the empty concourse. Then they walked along in front of the key cutting shop and disappeared round the corner into the alley.

As they turned the corner, she was weighing up whether to have tea or coffee. She was oblivious to the fact that he turned to look over his shoulder. He turned back and pulled his arm out of hers before he exploded. His clenched fist slammed into the side of her head, knocking her instantly to the ground. Disorientated she scrambled to find her bearings, she didn’t even know which way was up. Her head was spinning. He seized her hair with his left hand. So tightly that she could hear the roots being torn from her scalp as the sensation of heat spread across her scalp and met the wave of pain that emanated from her temple.

“Listen to me.” he whispered firmly “do NOT say a fucking word – do you understand me?”

She just stared with terrified eyes and sobbed. It wasn’t real. She felt like she had slipped into a parallel dimension. This wasn’t happening.

“DO YOU FUCKIN’ UNDERSTAND ME?” he spat through gritted teeth. For the first real time the alcohol fumes battered her face.

All she could do was nod and sob and shake.

He dragged her effortlessly deeper into the alley. Forcing her into a dirty doorway. The smell of stale urine assaulted her. The floor was ice cold and wet against her exposed legs.

“Right you little cunt. Suck this” he pulled down his zip and pulled his semi erect penis from within.

“FUCKING SUCK IT!”

She cried and sobbed. Snot and blood hung from her chin and attached themselves to her torn blouse. He stank. His groin stank. He needed a wash. He forced his member into contact with her lips whilst simultaneously tightening his grip on her hair. She reached up with one hand to try to reduce the pain. It was futile. He mouth opened in pain and he forced his ever growing shaft into the warmth of her delicate mouth.

“That’s right.. that’s good… you love it you dirty little whore…” , he pushed his hips in toward her face as he drew a deep breath. “good girl.. good girl.. suck it harder..”

She closed her eyes in an attempt to shut it all out. She just wanted this nightmare to end. He tasted like salt and raw meat.

“Wank it as well..” he ordered as he again twisted her hair. He pulled her hand down from her hair to her mouth. “fuckin’ wank it.. that’s it.. wank it.. keep going..”

And then without warning he released his seed into her mouth. She gagged, and grizzled and sobbed. She hoped and preyed it was over.

“Swallow it… don’t fuckin spit it out, swallow it.. FUCKIN’ SWALLOW IT!”

She sobbed and wretched, and then swallowed. Anything to get him to stop hurting her. As he let go of her hair, she collapsed to the ground.

He pulled a half empty bottle of vodka from inside his jacket and took a large swig.

“Drink that, please.” he ordered, as he thrust the bottle towards her face. She reached up and took the bottle. She just wanted to get the taste of him out of her mouth, as she knocked it back. It burnt her mouth but at least it was over. He finished putting himself back in his jeans and stopped down to speak in her ear.

“Thanks. I needed that.” He stroked her hair, gently kiss her forehead and smiled.

The tears wouldn’t stop as she stared down at the wet concrete paving slabs, at a flattened cigarette packet covered in grime.

“Your bus should be arriving soon. I need to get going.” He stood up. Without warning he turned back and unleashed a fierce kick, directly into her in the centre of her chest. Her breast plate felt like it had snapped and her lungs like they had collapsed. She couldn’t breath. Bright lights burst on the edge of her field of vision as she drifted away and blacked out…

---

10 am. He looked into the bathroom mirror and two bloodshot eyes stared back. He turned on the shower, before returning to the mirror. Turning his head one way and then the other, he admired himself. He thought he looked good. His mouth was dry, so he turned on the tap and took a mouthful of luke warm water. He spat into the toilet and pulled back the shower curtain. Here we go again. Same old routine. Everyday.

His route to work took him past the scene. No police. That was the best possible sign. He turned the music up and let his mind drift away as he relived his adventure, and was intoxicated by the power. 10 minutes later he arrived at work and pulled into the car park. He sat in his car for a second. Carol. Sweet Carol. Now she will learn how to take care of herself. He had done some good.