海螺 The Conch

“总有一天，就连海螺也会忘记海的声音。” 他还记得小时候，薯片的过期时间会写在袋子的最顶上，那时夏天是他最喜欢的季节，因为在夏天做的梦会带着一股清香，不像春天的梦一样躁动，也不像秋天的梦一样沉闷，他在沙滩边找到了一个海螺，妈妈说，把海螺贴在耳朵边上，就能听到海的声音，他照做了，然后说，哇！好神奇。 他有过悲伤的时刻，比如自己心爱的全息铅笔被班上的小霸王抢走，他注视虚拟墙与天花板的交界处，想要找到一个界限区分成为了他人的自己和原本的自己。他遇到过特别的人，也成为过那个特别的人的特别的人，但是他伤了她的心，至于为什么他从来没再和任何人提起。他想做一个爱憎分明、敢说敢想的人，但是没人告诉他为什么自己越来越沉默，越来越冷漠。他想爱自己。 他开着飞行车穿过大楼，注视着这座城市。这里有时会让他陶醉，有时会让他心碎，他像雪景球里的小人，感受着每一次虚假的雪落下的时刻。他的身边出现过一些他并不关心的人，他出于无奈与他们共享这个世界。他不抽烟，因为他不想让冰冷的玻璃缸带走灰烬的温度。有一天，他突然明白，其实海螺里的声音并不是来自大海，而是来自自己的耳朵深处，每个人的灵魂中都蕴藏着奇迹，却总是认为这些奇迹来自某些遥远的地方。 他看着水花被溅起，想起了冰块最初融化的时刻，那时洁净透亮如同琉璃的碎片的，是天使凝望远古帝国的废墟时落下的第一滴泪，只可惜加了防腐剂的薯片，也仍然会有保质期，石头上刻的字也会被慢慢抹去，那些挂在红色横幅上的奋斗标语，已经是来自古文明的遥远记忆。法老王褪色的石碑，猎户星座旁熊熊燃烧的星际战舰，和拄着拐杖的他试图回忆起的她，都会在时间的雨中消逝。 如果哪一天，当他再三举起海螺放在耳边，还是听不到任何声音的时候，他才能够确定，一切被视作永恒的东西都只是蜉蝣的一瞬间，因为就算是海螺，也会忘记海的声音。 他只记得那时在游乐园问出的最后一个问题。 “妈妈，我们什么时候回家？” 他静静地躺下，等待由太阳膨胀吞没。 'One day, even the conch will forget the sound of the sea.' He still remembers in his childhood, the expiration date of the potato chips was written at the top of the bag. Back then, summer was his favorite season because the dreams in summer carried a hint of fragrance, unlike the restless dreams of spring, or the dull dreams of autumn. He found a conch by the beach, his mother told him that if he put the conch to his ear, he would hear the sound of the sea. He did as she said and said, "Amazing!" He had moments of sorrow, such as when his beloved holographic pencil was taken by the bully in the class. He stared at the junction between the virtual wall and the ceiling, trying to find a boundary to distinguish the self that had become someone else's and the self that he originally was. He had met a special one and had been the special one to that special one, but he had hurt her heart. As for why, he never mentioned it to anyone again. He wanted to be someone who loved and hated clearly and spoke his mind, but no one told him why he was becoming more and more silent and indifferent. He wanted to love himself. He drove his flying car through the buildings, gazing at the city. Sometimes it intoxicated him, sometimes it broke his heart. He felt like a little figure in the snow globe, experiencing every moment of the fake snow falling. There were people around whom he didn't care about, he shared this world with them out of necessity. He never smoked, because he didn't want the cold glass tank to take away the warmth of the ashes. One day, he suddenly realized that the sound within the conch did not come from the vast ocean, but from the depths of his own ear. People harbor miracles within their souls, yet always assume that these wonders originate from some distant places. Watching the splashes of water, he was reminded of the moment when the ice first began to melt. At that time, the clean and bright fragments, like pieces of glass, were the first tears shed by the angel gazing at the ruins of the ancient empire. Unfortunately, even potato chips with preservatives still have an expiration date, and the words carved on stones will gradually be erased. The slogans of struggle on red banners have become distant memories of an ancient civilization. The faded pedestal of Ozymandias, the attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion, and the her the old man leaning on a cane trying to recall, will all vanish in the rain of time. If one day, when he raises the conch to his ear for the third time and still hears no sound, he will be able to confirm that everything considered eternal is just a moment for a mayfly, because even the conch would forget the sound of the sea. He only remembers the last question he asked at the amusement park. 'Mom, when can I go home?' Quietly he lay down, waiting for the sun to swell and engulf.