Lost in Time｜所逝為時
The afternoon sun glared at the town of Momentos, casting a shadow over the street of Long-gone. Here the old man turned his head, sighing to the wilted petals that once bloomed the last color of rainbow. The clock struck four, what for? The streets were empty for all but the echoes that follow: those of a summer’s dream, and those of a winter’s tempest. He walked on ahead, always turning backwards; leaving the shadows of the street behind, yet never leaving the street. What do they call those whose souls move on, only leaving their mind and other remnants behind? His heavy steps dragged along the gravel, bearing the weight of all those he had left behind. “If only,” it was that simple, echoed through the winded alleyways, through the throes of his own mind.
午後斜陽照射著俄頃之村，為長逝之路蒙上一層陰影。老人在此回頭，為曾綻放彩虹最後一道顏色的花瓣嘆息。時針指向四時，究竟為了什麼？街坊不見人，卻聞音聲迴響：那些夏夜之夢，與那些凜冬風雨。他走著，永遠都在回頭；在身後留下街坊的陰影，卻永遠未曾離去。他們究竟稱呼這些靈魂起身，卻徒留心靈與其他遺留物的人什麼呢？他沉重的步伐拖行著砂礫，承受著那些他所遺留的重量。「若是，」如此簡單，回音穿過起風了的窄街，穿過他劇痛的心。
Suddenly, seemingly afraid of being caught by his own shadow, he made a beeline for Hereafter, never once stopping to admire a single view. The clock will soon strike two more hours before the tenth hour. Every step would bring him an impending feeling of responsibility, as if his two feet were laying the foundations of the pavement. Almost like the steps of a bear on thin ice, almost too afraid to move, but oh, how reality calls. Every now and then, he would quicken his pace. Along endless narrows and inclines in the streets, he will run, running and forever losing his breath in the wind. Is he afraid that he couldn’t catch up? When will he ever catch up? The answer will forever be shrouded in mystery, along with the object of pursuit.
突然間，看似害怕被他自己的影子攫獲，他直線走向迄今，為曾駐足欣賞任何景色。時鐘將在十點之前多前近兩小時。每一步都帶給他一種迫在眉梢的責任感，如同他的雙腳正倚在路面上。幾乎等同如履薄冰，也幾乎如重足而立。但噢，現實又是如何回應的。每時每刻，他都加快腳步，在無盡攀升的窄巷之中，他將跑著，跑著並在風中永遠失去他的氣息。難道是他害怕被抓到嗎？他又會何時被抓到？答案將永遠成為謎團，偕同所追尋之物。
At once, he stops. In front of a window he stands. Contemplating what he has and what he hasn’t. As the clock strikes the final hour, he turns and walks in. Pacing up and down the aisles, from choice to choice- from time worn trinkets to the advertisements of the upcoming, stopping only at one. “A gift,” it reads. No promises it makes to make “a life worth living,” nor does it offer immediate happiness and satisfaction for a sum. The gift stands on the shelf, good as new; old as dust. Touching the gift gives off such an indescribable feeling: a sudden rush of adrenaline, an energetic air, a melancholic ooze, a burnt and tired aftertaste. At the counter, the man offers to purchase the gift, undermining its value; for the gift has none, yet it is the most prized possession one can ever hold on the face of the earth. The clerk smiles and with a “thank you,” vanishes into the remaining dust. The man exits the store with a gift in hand, breathing in the fragrance that now surrounds the air. Looking back he can see that the shop, with the moonlight barely glancing off the reflection behind the counter, now positively gleams with a new possibility. A nightingale calls with the finding of a new day, the moon can be seen rivaling the sun in its glory, and the only being in between all of this is he. A sense of being, of being in the Moment, rises up inside of the man. With a newfound lightness in his step, the man walks on towards the streets of Yet-to-be, only stopping some to look back towards Lane Memoir E.
有一次，他停下腳步。在窗前他駐足，思忖著那些他是與其不是。當時鐘指向最後一刻，他轉身進入。在走道間穿梭，在選擇之間——從身著廉價首飾的時間至將來之物的廣告，僅佇足過一次而已。「一個禮物，」它寫道。不鞥成諾會將「生活值得過下去」，也並未將生活的總和注入立即性的幸福與滿足。禮物矗立在架上，質如新，舊如塵。觸碰禮物則帶來一種難以言喻的感受：一種突然爆發地腎上腺素、一種有活力的氣息、致人憂鬱的滲流、以及精疲力竭的餘韻。在櫃檯，男人買下了禮物，貶低了其價值；因為禮物無物，卻是地球上任一人皆無法正眼面對的價值之物。銷售員微笑、說聲「謝謝」，並消逝在塵埃之中。男人手持禮物在店裡，呼吸著帶有芬芳的空氣。回頭張望，他看見月光照射在收銀台之後，閃爍著可能性的光輝。夜鶯在尋找嶄新一天時高歌、月亮在其光輝中與太陽相媲美，在這其中的唯一存有即是他。一種存有感、存有於此刻的感覺、在男人內心升起。邁著全新的輕盈步伐，男人走向將至之路，僅停下幾步路回過頭看回憶Ｅ之道。