爲愛

回到了Montréal。大地依旧是一片银妆素裹，虽然灿烂阳光中已经有了清甜的春天气息。

记忆还停留在墨西哥的海滨小镇Melaque。清晨远方隐约传来阵阵悠长的鸡鸣和海鸟的欢啼。深夜从屋子不知哪个角落会兀然传出几只小壁虎清脆的低鸣。午时送水的破旧货车很有幽默感地用泰山的猿啼做信号音乐，在尘土中悠然地颠簸来去。本地人用西班牙语高声畅谈，光着脚丫，皮肤黝黑的孩子们只顾嬉闹。十四年前这里大地震的废墟任在，记忆却早已被阳光蒸发得不留痕迹，这个偏远颓败的墨西哥小镇，眼下却有一番不知人世疾苦的浑然自得。

从旅馆向东走不到一百米，景象顿时不同。天永远是清清透透的开阔，阳光永远是没心没肺的灿烂，海水永远是踏踏实实的湛蓝。每天除了潜水，游泳，就是在沙滩上铺着色彩绚丽桌布的小餐馆的凉棚下闲坐，捧一只硕大的冰镇椰子或者一杯用椰奶、菠萝汁、朗姆酒和冰沙调制的 Piña Colada ，几本好书，面朝大海，清风拂面，看S在不远处抱着塑料小桶小铲率领侄子侄女完成沙城堡工程，不亦乐乎。

真正是岁月静好，喜乐从容。

……

时光如水，不知不觉间，天上一日，人间千年。

这半年，博客暗自沉寂，心境颠沛流离。一直在路上。Sydney，Adelaide，Alice Springs，Melbourne，Canberra，Brisbane，北京，武汉，阳朔，桂林，Montréal，Gradalajara，Melaque，Tinacatita……停驻，徘徊，告别，前行。峰回路转，悲喜交集，反复念叨的还是那句老话：此心安处是吾乡。至少，与从前的行走生涯不同的是，漂泊不再。

因为身旁有他同行。

被一个真诚温暖的男人妥帖细致地爱着，疼着；每一次伸出的手都有人紧紧地握着；每一句异想天开的痴语都有人静静地微笑着听着、记着；每一个小成绩都有人真心实意地为之开心着；每一次软弱沮丧都有个坚实温暖的怀抱由我赖着……世间的缺憾各有滋味，人间烟火里散落的种种琐碎的小圆满，小幸福，却无一例外地要落了俗套。是他让我懂得什么是朝朝暮暮不离不弃凡事包容永不止息，让我明白春宵苦短珍惜眼前人没事别瞎折腾。于是就这么义无反顾地随了他，去国离乡，一切又要从头开始。北京的一番热闹欢腾，转眼间已经飘散得只剩缭缭余音；转身是片波澜不惊的陌生世界，得慢慢教会自己，去过这样“除了爱情一无所有”的生活。当然，还有自己。也正是在这样的寂寞中，在自己和自己的长谈中，更多地触探到自己的灵魂，那个永远充满能量的，不安的，不断地渴求着多一点点爱，再多一点点爱，认真地期待命运带来的下一个微小奇迹的灵魂。而此时此刻，她不再孤单。

即使前方，还有很长的路要走。
期待前方，还有很长的路可走。


Back to Montréal. It is still a silver world as when I left, although the fresh fragrance of spring has already crept into the crispy air and crystal sunshine.

The memory of Melaque still haunts me sometimes. It’s a small remote town at the Western waterfronts of Mexico. At daybreak faint rooster crows and sea bird twitters sprinkle the dawning sky. In the middle of the night chirpings of geckos punctuate the dark silence abruptly. Everyday at noon a shabby van delivering barrels of purified water jolts along the dusty road around town, playing the chirping of Tarzan as its signal jingles (Such is the Mexican sense of humor, I guess). All day long the loud chatters of the swarthy locals can be heard through the window. The memories of the earthquake 14 years ago have already evaporated under the sunbeams. This small rundown Mexican town simply rambles on with a rhythm of its own, caring nothing much about the world at large.

Less than one hundred meters’ walk from the bungalow we stay, the view is abruptly different. The sky is so wide open as if any limit in life can be forgotten; the sun is so bright as if nothing in the world is worth worrying about; and the ocean…the ocean is just so reassuringly blue. Life on the beach is simple: diving, swimming, or sitting under the palapas on the beach with a nice book and a chilled coconut or Piña Colada in hand. S is building a sand castle with his little niece and nephew, preoccupied with his grand architecture project. The cool wind from the sea gently brushes my cheeks and hair.

This was the peaceful time of my life. Happiness was right there where I could touch.

...

Six months have flown by like water.

My blog has been on the halt; my heart has been on the road. Sydney, Adelaide, Alice Springs, Melbourne, Canberra, Brisbane, Beijing, Wuhan, Yangshuo, Guilin, Montréal, Gradalajara, Melaque, Tinacatita…Stop, linger, farewell, move on. Everything changes along the road. Tears mix with laughter. Only my motto stays the same: Home is where my heart feels at ease.

And yes, I do have a home now. With him.

A man with a truthful heart that cherishes me and cares for me. Every time I reach out my hand, I know there will be someone to hold it. Every word of my “crazy nonsense” will be heard and remembered with a smile. Every little achievement of mine will receive a heartfelt cheer and applause. Every time I feel weak and frustrated, I know I could fall into his strong, warm arms…There are a million kinds of yearnings and regrets in this world, but all the trivial happiness and fulfillment seem quite the same. With every minute we spend together, he shows me the meaning of love in its simplest, truest, most extraordinary and most ordinary sense.

So I let him take my hand, and take me home to Montréal – a home I’ve never seen before. Start from scratch all over again. Leaving behind all the festivities of Beijing and dive right into a silent, new world. Echoes of the past are still ringing in my ears, while my new life keeps whispering to me: “love is all I have”. But no, I have myself. And in this endless solitude and conversation with myself, I have again explored deeper into my own soul: this restless and reckless soul, perpetually yearning for love, a little bit more, just a little bit more, and confidently expecting the next miracle that love brings into her life.

She no longer feels lonely.

Even though the road is long, and the journey has just started.
Hopefully the road is long, and the journey has just started.

周末和狐朋狗友流窜至798。

每次身置“中国当代艺术”的热闹场面之中，看着某些煞有介事的艺术家和某些故作镇静的观众各自心怀鬼胎，神出鬼没，总是件颇为有趣的事情。=P

总感觉不少“当代艺术家”把自个儿这门子活计太当回事儿了。

什么事，一旦太上心，就不好玩了。尤其是艺术。

人啊，还真不能太把自个儿当回事儿。

可能还得怪咱中华民族博大精深的语言文化：有的是“作者”、“作家”，“摄影师”、“摄影家”，“设计师”，“设计家”……可为啥只要跟art一沾上边儿，大伙儿就摇身一变全成了艺术“家”？

您说说，这等好事，不让咱没事儿偷着乐都难。

北京连日阴雨，时有雷暴。阴霾重重下好似危机四伏，撩人心魄，呼吸之中却又有清甜水汽，沁人心脾。原来坏天气，也有这般意外的好。

时光如梭。日日稿来如山倒，稿成如抽丝，反而很久没有为自己写点东西。忘了哪位哲学大家睿智地告诉我们：世上本没有“为自己写东西”这一回事——否则你大可以在头脑里自说自话，双手互搏，又何苦埋头码字，费神费力且不环保。结论是：文字总是始于人类表现和沟通的欲望——可偏偏这两样欲望我都缺失。再说了，寻常日子里蓦然邂逅的种种鲜活生猛的人间悲喜，原不是文辞可以形容。任你文彩如何不凡，等满腔热情落到笔尖，则要么苍白，要么矫情。借用庄老师的说法：真正的欢喜和悲伤面前，文字是多么无力。不信的话，你可以描绘一下自己的性高潮。懒惰如我，与其吭哧吭哧还两头不落好，倒宁愿一个猛子扎入高潮迭起的生活洪流，被那些汹涌浓烈的俗世繁华一个浪头淹没，也就沉寂了这张叙叙叨叨的嘴。不过，也有这样窗外传来声声狗吠的清凉如水的深夜，突然想不琢磨主题不琢磨结构不琢磨遣词造句不琢磨怎么叼着自以为是的价值观装大尾巴狼地写点字。So，我爱写，就写吧。您爱看，就看吧。

周末坐两个小时的公交车，去海淀看望老友。在那样物不是，人亦非的地方，本身就引人怀旧，何况身侧又是这样看着我一路撒丫子磕磕碰碰长大的朋友。俩人从博士生宿舍到食堂到北大校园再到西门鸡翅，共一把小得令人发指的雨伞绕着烟雨迷濛的未名湖一圈又一圈地走，从中午到深夜，只是——说话，没完没了地说话。F是这样的一个明镜般的朋友，或者说，亲人。因为时间，因为空间（隔断人心的两大罪魁祸首啊……我偏不能让你们得逞！），见面的机会其实不多，但每一次这样超high的BT马拉松式长谈，都让我把自己看得更清楚一点点。

比方说，那天坐在回家的末班车上在头脑里回放我们的谈话，我彻底明白了：我TM就是这么一个没有明确目标的人。世界呀，你爱怎么着怎么着吧。什么职业规划，前途钱途，供房养车，海归白领……几亿号人写好的剧本，谁说我就非得入戏不可。如果一定要给个goal，那么这辈子我惟一希望达成的愿望就是：好玩的，玩过； 想去的地方，去过；值得爱的人，爱过。还有，希望在做所有这些事情的同时，一直保持辽阔、明亮、柔软、自由的内心。六十年后，也能在自己的重重孙面前拍着干瘪下垂却豪气冲天的胸膛说：想当年，你老奶奶也是结结实实，真真切切活过一把的人！……

近日托卓越当当之福，看了不少好书。书单就不列了，以避半瓶子水晃荡之嫌。印象比较深的是Lauren Slater的《20世纪最伟大的心理学实验》。最初是我做心理咨询志愿者时的良师益友Karen推荐给我，跑了好几家外文书局都没寻到，突然得见中文版，虽素来喜读原版，但也如获至宝地点入“购物车”。好在是引进的台湾译本，看得出是费了一番心思推敲的文字，靠谱且令人欣慰。其中比较震动我的是Harry Harlow以猿猴为实验对象进行的关于“爱”和“依恋”（attachment）的实验。具体过程就不冗述了，最后Harlow向人们揭示了这样一个事实：爱，源于肢体接触。拥抱、亲吻、体温……正是这些最本质，最原始的温暖，让我们不惜代价地渴求。想起我很喜欢的艺术家Jonathan Harris的作品《I Want You To Want Me》、《We Feel Fine》和《Lovelines》，从更琐碎真实的细节探入，殊途同归，丝丝入扣地诠释出人类的情感和欲望。我想会不会正是因为现代通讯工具的发达，让我们的时代抑郁、焦虑泛滥成灾。我们有太多的方式可以同他人“保持联系”：电话、email、MSN、视频……结果却忘了“保持联系”的本来涵义——Keep in TOUCH。我猜想，在我敲着字的这个静谧时刻，这个城市的某个角落，一定有人正绝望地凝视着他MSN上热热闹闹的数百号绿色图标，在心底默默期待一个遥不可及的有力拥抱。

我想这个道理我早就心知肚明。不然，也不会这么轻易地就原谅了某些人，还有自己的软弱。谁都不容易。那天终于横下心来，从旧手机里一条条删除那些炽热的海誓山盟，心里不是没有淡淡忧伤的。只是，也只能，有思无恋。我们的那些痴语，就算仍有余温，在横亘于现实中的巨大无奈之间，只是兀自回响着一些不明就里的暧昧。

忘了在哪里听来的一句话：你可以对世界悲观，但要对生活乐观。你可以对人生悲观，但要对生活乐观。我也许就是这样的一个悲观的乐观主义者，乐观的悲观主义者。

毕竟，生活里有太多我热爱的，好玩的，美丽的事情。写字、爱情，都是其中之一；对于任何一样，我都欲罢不能。

我边写着边在MSN聊着的哥们儿对我说：写吧。想到的能写出来就是幸福。

我对自己说：爱吧。能有爱在心底就是幸福。至于那谁谁谁，keep in touch，就好。

还是在同样的午夜灯下，独自在窗前敲着字，可此刻的心境已豁然开朗。

其实说起来缘由只不过是一顿美味的晚饭，和一个同样“血里带风”的哥们儿。听他说要带我去一家“院子里有大树，板鸭特美味”的湘菜，心下就暗暗起疑，等到 了门口仰头一看，不禁抚掌大乐——这不就是俺“奥美时期”的食堂吗？相约了很久的第一顿饭就阴差阳错地在这个彼此都热爱，门口的月季旁若无人地盛放的“老 地方”登场，后来想想，也是机缘。

席间聊了很多。其实五个月前初相遇时彼此就感觉亲切，说起话来也向来是没遮没拦的舒畅。他也连连纳闷怎么会就那么自然地就和我讲那些自己不曾和旁人聊过的事。人与人之间没来由的信任和投契真是生命里最美好的东西。

真的从心底感激他。是那种淡如水的哥们儿，平日里来往不多，各忙各的，彼此无所求，但润物细无声，点点滴滴都是心意相通的清甜和妥贴。

我想其实自己是多么容易满足的人。仅仅是知道有人懂得，哪怕只有一个，就足以驱散心头所有的孤单、沮丧和不知所措。但谁又能说这样惺惺相惜的温情不是世界上最难得的奢侈？

酒足饭饱回到家，打开MacBook正要敲字，又连接了两个朋友的电话，谈毕反复叮嘱我工作辛苦要好好照顾自己，注意身体，早睡早起（=P)。心下更觉温暖。想着六月夏日将至，清风艳阳，这个城市那么多互相陪伴着走着痛着笑着的人，觉得生命，真是好。=)

最近风水诡异，郁闷来袭，分布在神州大地的数位好友分别向我传达了近期心情极为不爽的讯息——更加不爽的是，仿佛没有人知道郁闷从何而起。

真TM流年不利。

我想我的郁闷，穷根求源，无非是因为面对自己的软弱，不知所措。所有的道理我都能倒背如流，可问题是，问题是，一切都不过如此。

这个不靠谱的时代，we have everything we want, but nothing we need。

Barbra Streisand的歌词中说：People who need people are the luckiest people in the world。说得真好。

可是怎样的需要才是需要呢？Miss you究竟是什么意思？是偶尔滑过心间的“wish you were here”的怀念，还是无可自拔，深噬入骨，令人面目全非的思念？可事实是，在这个人们习惯了相互遗忘的世界，无论是曾如何汹涌澎湃地漫延过你的整个灵魂的激流，最终都能在现实的烈日炙烤之下，蒸发为一缕淡淡水汽……消失得连一丝痕迹也不会留下。

然后，还是那句老话：地球还在转动。生活继续。Life goes on。

我也想像XX那样冲这个世界大吼一声：那些生猛而充满愤怒的年轻人都到哪里去了？……

那些不甘心let go，有勇气去记忆和怀念的，面色坦然地以淋漓的伤口示人的孩子们，都到哪里去了？为什么只剩下这些仪容完美，言语得体，满眼仓惶的人们，在日复一日地遗忘昨日，然后步伐坚定地走向明天？

真的，一切都不过如此。Whether you need or not。

我不想伪装坚强，不想伪装勇敢，不想伪装快乐。因为没有什么值得。

Richard Wilkins说：What is the difference between pretending to be happy and being happy?

所以，与其庸人自扰，不如没心没肺。I still believe in miracles, coz I’ve seen them happen with my own eyes.

午夜的灯下，独自在窗前写着字，记起那些遥远的人和事，我想我真的该去睡了。

Tomorrow, is another day。=)

原打算在生日当天去写的这么一小段文字，结果一拖再拖。借口可以有一大堆，归根到底还是本性的闲散和低调。素来就乏应景之心，生日当然更不要和自己过不 去。这一天能淡淡的过去，和平日里每一天同样的快乐，就是最好。（今天最快乐的时刻，该是深夜从杂志社加班出来，背着一大包书在凄风惨雨中望穿秋水达半小 时之久，终于看到一辆亮着红灯的Taxi缓缓驶近……=)

其实3.17这个日子，有着特殊意义的，（除了狂饮Guinness的爱尔兰人之外）该是对为了将我带到这个美好的世界上来，在产床上承受了巨大苦痛最后还挨了一刀的母亲。许力说我是天生“血里有风”的人。从 出生时脐带缠颈三圈可见端倪——想必在娘胎里已经不能老老实实呆着，不折腾个翻江倒海誓不罢休。姥姥说“大难不死，必有后福”，我信。二十六年一路走来， 这么多的甜蜜温暖，已经不是言语能够形容。我一直相信在爱之中成长的人才能有给予爱的能力，所以虽然很俗很肉麻，还是想再一次感谢那么多曾经、仍然和正在 深爱着我，牵挂着我的人……是你们亲手一点点地将我的心磨润出柔和的线条，让今天的我仍然能够毫不犹疑地相信真爱，相信永恒，始终怀着温柔坚定的心情笑对 人世间种种风声鹤唳。

右腕上自己亲手设计的鱼纹银镯，因长久不离身，已与初时那种晦暗顿涩的质感不同，有了清亮温润的光泽。为我打制它的苗家小伙子告诉我：银是亲肤的，会慢慢 变成你身体的一部分。时光的印记也许就是这样在朝夕间悄悄浮现。一直固执的认为年龄只是一个数字而已，与人的心智成熟没有任何关系。但这过去的一年时光也 让我的心境和腕上银镯一般，渐渐变得通澈澄明。

更懂得自己。明白了城市对我而言其实只是多么模糊的概念。只有温暖真诚的人才能让我快乐。
 
懂得了放手才能自由。而这样的自由是任何人都夺不走的。

正式成为杂志人，并且热爱这份工作。但也记得这个世界上有很多东西是比工作更加重要的。工作的意义无非是让我能继续做一个快乐、正直和善良的人。=P

爱上了单板滑雪，拿到了有生以来第一张滑雪高级道证书。=)

喜欢简单，直接和纯粹的人和事。真实地生活，是不屑伪装的懒惰，也是真性情的勇气。

很久没有购物。喜欢物质的风情万种（清香的原木、表面粗糙的石头、纹路质朴的手工纸、柔软的棉布和粗麻），可是对于拥有它们却渐渐丧失了兴趣。美，享受过，记在心里就好。将物质欲望降到最低，简单只余本质的生活，让我能更清晰地听到灵魂的声音。

终于可以告别在五星级酒店间辗转的生活，很开心。不为别的，只是因为有了一个暂时的小小空间可以放任自己买书回家，在木地板上堆满。

为环保做一些力所能及的事情，很开心，很自豪。

只用一种香水，让熟悉的，若有若无的清洌微甜静静停留在皮肤上，觉得是自己。


P.S.
在26岁希望能做到的事情有：
在最好的年纪，好好的爱一个爱我的好人。（每个年纪都是好年纪啊！=) 旅行。能更多一些时间，看完那些堆满地板的书。能完成我的宏伟学习计划：爵士舞和肚皮舞 =P；爵士鼓；更多法语和基本的意大利语。买单反相机，磨砺摄影技术。重新开始玩滚轴溜冰和攀岩。饮食规律，经常远足，多吃水果和蔬菜*_*。尽可能早 睡。

……为了体现我的决心，不敲字了，睡觉去！=P

It seems things are indicative to
a distinct desire to
observe such
heal such
behave such that makes this hard for me

I'm not real and I deny
I won't heal unless I cry
I can't grieve so I won't grow
I won't heal 'til I let it go


New Year is always an opportunity to start things afresh. Or an excuse.

I‘ve always been someone who dives head-first into the torrents of life and never turn back. Along the way I’ve gradually lost the reasons to pile up words in the virtual space just so I could come up with something for myself, or for others. But each time I was held at gunpoint by friends’ blog interrogations and as my Declaration of Human Laziness started to lose its vehemence, I was somehow touched, and enlightened to the meaning of it all. Damn it, I talk to myself in my head (at least I thought so…what have you heard?) all the time anyway. Why not just throw all those crazy thoughts out there where those who care about me can see it and feel relieved to know that I’m still the same old daydreaming kid that they have always known? Only this time around, I am going to sustain my Blog Renaissance for as long as…I feel like it.

Just came back (or should I say, escaped?) to Beijing three days ago after the Chinese New Year homecoming. As guilty as I feel saying this, I actually felt relieved. Maybe I have been out there on my own for too long. Now I am simply not strong enough to handle the intensive, overwhelming, 24/7 tough love from my parents and relatives…my flesh and blood, family. All this uninterrupted attention exhausted me. Even being back in Wuhan, this sprawling, noisy city that I have lived in for 17 years of my life, I felt suffocated by this immense sense of familiarity. Believe it or not, each time I went back there, I would get struck down by some kind of strange illness for a week and physically removing myself from home would be a natural cure (I was never home for more than a week anyway). I am homesick, literarily. How ironic is the fact that even my body is rejecting the idea of being home. What’s wrong with me? Or is this place simply…not home?

When filling out the Hometown section of my Facebook profile, after searching for an answer in my mind for a long time I finally put down “still searching...”. Truth is, of all the places I have been to around the world, I have never felt not at home at any of them. Cultural Shock has been such an alien concept to me. I’m like a dandelion seed being blown around in the wind, and would put down root and thrive wherever I happen to land – before I uproot myself and move on again. And again. If what they say is true, home is where your heart feels at ease, then maybe the Earth is my home. But where is that special place I belong, where I could simply stop myself from going away? For me this is a puzzle as hard to solve as tenth-grade Maths (which I failed miserably, and for many, many years afterwards).

I remember when I first came back to China, going all alone to Shanghai, to start a brand new life in a city that I knew (almost) no one and launch a career in a completely strange field seemed like the easiest decision to make. Yet my determination to start things from scratch was met with my brother-in-law’s (whom I’ve only met a few times) very succinct comment: “Wei? Oh she won’t stay there for long.” And here I am, seven months from the day he said this, sitting in my newly rented apartment in Beijing, with a newly launched career as a writer for a newly launched design magazine in town. And I am lovin’ it. My Shanghai days? That seems like my past life already. I might not know where I belong, but I definitely know where I don’t belong. Sorry, Shanghai.

I so love this city that I’m living in. I love the boundless passions that are surging from each corner of these ancient hidden alleyways, expansive avenues, crammed streets…I can feel on my skin his every throb (Yes, I insist that Beijing the city is a male gender) among all the chaos and craze. Maybe the love affair with a city is just like that with a man. It’s also a love-hate relationship. Even my heartfelt pain caused by Beijing’s relentless urban planning and “surrealistic” construction/destruction has been savored with deep affection. But is Beijing my home? I don’t know. I really don’t.

All I know is that self-exile is a fate. Some people are born with restless blood in their veins. They will always bear the mark of solitude, and walk silently among the nameless crowds. Maybe eventually my path will cross with that of another Gypsy traveler. We will recognize each other, care for each other, and offer each other the greatest gifts at our disposal: a lifetime of respect, trust and freedom. As for now, my only wish is to live the actual moment. Only this moment is life.

Alright maybe I am roaming a bit off-track here. But what the hell? It’s not the first time and will not be the last. After all, isn’t this the whole point of writing a private blog? The pleasure of going freely to whichever direction you wish, talking only to those who you know will understand what you are saying and don’t give a damn about the rest. Blessed are those who can hear their true callings. Blessed are those who have love deep down in their hearts. And I, I even have extras in my fridge: the take-away barbecued pork from that amazing Cantonese restaurant just around the corner is simply little bites of heaven.


新年总是个让一切从头来过的契机。或者借口。

像我这样以最大的激情一猛子栽进这活泼热闹的大千世界中，被生活的激流席卷着不能回头的人，似乎渐渐失掉在space上堆砌一些无关痛痒的文字来给自己或别人一个交代的理由。但每每被狐朋狗友就束之高阁的博客事业兴师问罪，惊慌失措地再次发表《懒人权宣言》之后，心底总会泛起一丝温暖的感动。知道在space中的无心呓语竟然也有相识的或不相识的人在用心地倾听，实在不能不让我深感受宠若惊，也渐渐开始相信，将那些时时盘旋在脑海里的古怪念头在这座小小的世外孤岛上精心堆积，也一定有它的意义所在。哪怕只是让那些关心我的人知道我还是他们一直所认识的那个异想天开，没心没肺的孩子而长吁一口气呢。只希望这次的Space复兴运动能像我们的社会主义建设事业一样红火、长久。

三天前结束了春节长假回到北京，心情一下子轻松起来。也许因为独自在外漂泊太久，父母、长辈、亲友突如其来的无微不至的全天候关爱让我几乎手足无措，甚至……疲累不堪。而置身武汉，这个我曾生活了十七年的嘈杂都市，巨大的熟悉感也让我感觉窒息。每次回武汉必定要大病一场，这次也不例外。Homesick这个词真是被我断章取义地赋予了新的诠释。忍不住心下惶然：难道我的身体也开始抗拒回家；或者，这里原本就不是家？

Facebook上的hometown一栏，想了很久还是写下了still searching。自认有着无比强悍的生命力，这些年走过许许多多的地方，却从来不知所谓的“culture shock”为何物。仿佛自己是一粒蒲公英的种子，飘落于广阔蓝天之下的任何一寸土地，都很理所当然地生根发芽，枝繁叶茂起来。于是，也很理所当然地一次又一次拔根而起，离开，再离开。如果说心安之处即是家，那么也许地球才是我的故乡。而究竟哪里才是能让自己停泊下来的地方，这个问题问得让我简直仿佛面对数学考卷一样心里发虚。

记得刚回国时没费多大劲就做出了只身南下，闯荡上海滩的决定。在陌生的城市寻觅住所，进入全新的工作领域……彻彻底底的start from scratch的壮烈决心，却遭遇和我不过数面之缘的慧眼姐夫一句轻描淡写的预言：“她呀，在上海不会呆很久。” 而此的我，正在北京两个月前新租下的公寓里享受着北方清丽的冬日暖阳，为一份新创刊的设计杂志忙碌而快乐地写字。上海的回忆，似乎已经是很久远的事情了。我并不知道哪里才是属于我的地方，但我知道哪里不是。

我是那么热爱这个在这个古老的城市四处涌动的无穷无尽的激情，他（我固执地认为北京是个阳性的城市）的悸动、混乱和疯狂，我都感同身受。也许对一个城市的爱和对一个人的爱都是 love-hate relationship。所以哪怕对他丧心病狂的城市建设和惨绝人寰的交通状况，也是咬牙承受着切肤之痛并快乐着，不离不弃。但北京是否就是我将长久地生活下去的家，我真的，真的不知道。

我只知道流离失所是一种无可违抗的命运。有些人的血管里流着不安分的血，生来注定要带着孤独的印记，默默行走在苍茫辽阔的世间。也许最终我会在路途上邂逅另外一个吉普赛旅人，与他彼此相认，惺惺相惜，在澄明通透的湖水边相濡以沫，一生一世。而此刻，我只愿享受当下，即为此生。

又扯远了。不过管它呢。能随意天南地北，将肺腑之言说给那些你知道会明白你在说什么的人听，本来就是为自己写字的最大乐趣。能听到来自内心深处的召唤的人是有福的。心中有爱的人是有福的。何况我冰箱里还有半份从建外SOHO的粤菜馆里吃不完打包带回家的美味叉烧饭呢。