花开不同赏，花落不同悲
Oct. 23rd, 2006 11:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fatima读了一遍又一遍Miriam Heddy的《Lachesis》，深切地为了那两个人感动了。
那样的----那样的爱情啊。用了十五年才能开出花来，然后回头去看当初那枚被埋藏在地心的种子。那枚沉睡了酝酿了等待了十五年，一夜之间突然间绽放得花重锦官城的种子。
命中注定，不过如此。天荒地老，不过如是。
Larry looked like he was going to crawl right out of his skin and break something again. He'd tucked his head down between his shoulders and was folding up on himself like a crumpled piece of origami paper, and Charlie suddenly longed to draw him out, suddenly ridiculously turned on by the certainty that it wasn't all just in his head, and that Larry had really wanted him.
Because he'd filed the whole thing away at the time as yet another misread social cue, and, over time, had forgotten about it. And though he'd known he was getting better at it everyday, he still sometimes got people very wrong, though never with any serious repercussions. Though he'd actually never had as much trouble with Larry as he had with some people. So he should have suspected. Maybe he did suspect. Maybe that's why he was still here, this many years later. Maybe it all came down to not misreading that moment--and maybe it was like the problem he began that year but couldn't solve until he'd learned enough to move through to the next steps. His intuitive leaps could only ever take him so far. He had to show his work.
然后就开始轰轰烈烈地郁闷。同是师生关系，同是年龄偏差，为什么我就写不出那样的爱情。为什么我的那两个人永远都是那么一副要死不活的破罐破摔样子。
----好吧其实我知道为什么，只是没法改变。我没有闭门造车的本事。我只能写自己知道的感觉，不管是爱还是别的东西。而对于亲爱的那些人们，我是那样地……希望他们不要受伤。虽然到了最后……“不会受伤”也就只能代表“不受伤”，而已。
我总是在作茧自缚。写着《In Pectore》，这种感觉越发强烈。本来立志说要“从下一系列文重新开始情书”，但因为某人的死，这东西却怎么也情书不起来---是在写带土和玲。写四代。写熊哥哥。我以前只写过一次，但是那么喜欢的熊哥哥。
格小子说我最近是写什么CP卡什么。然而我想我更严重的问题也许是，中文又退步了……
那样的----那样的爱情啊。用了十五年才能开出花来，然后回头去看当初那枚被埋藏在地心的种子。那枚沉睡了酝酿了等待了十五年，一夜之间突然间绽放得花重锦官城的种子。
命中注定，不过如此。天荒地老，不过如是。
Larry looked like he was going to crawl right out of his skin and break something again. He'd tucked his head down between his shoulders and was folding up on himself like a crumpled piece of origami paper, and Charlie suddenly longed to draw him out, suddenly ridiculously turned on by the certainty that it wasn't all just in his head, and that Larry had really wanted him.
Because he'd filed the whole thing away at the time as yet another misread social cue, and, over time, had forgotten about it. And though he'd known he was getting better at it everyday, he still sometimes got people very wrong, though never with any serious repercussions. Though he'd actually never had as much trouble with Larry as he had with some people. So he should have suspected. Maybe he did suspect. Maybe that's why he was still here, this many years later. Maybe it all came down to not misreading that moment--and maybe it was like the problem he began that year but couldn't solve until he'd learned enough to move through to the next steps. His intuitive leaps could only ever take him so far. He had to show his work.
然后就开始轰轰烈烈地郁闷。同是师生关系，同是年龄偏差，为什么我就写不出那样的爱情。为什么我的那两个人永远都是那么一副要死不活的破罐破摔样子。
----好吧其实我知道为什么，只是没法改变。我没有闭门造车的本事。我只能写自己知道的感觉，不管是爱还是别的东西。而对于亲爱的那些人们，我是那样地……希望他们不要受伤。虽然到了最后……“不会受伤”也就只能代表“不受伤”，而已。
我总是在作茧自缚。写着《In Pectore》，这种感觉越发强烈。本来立志说要“从下一系列文重新开始情书”，但因为某人的死，这东西却怎么也情书不起来---是在写带土和玲。写四代。写熊哥哥。我以前只写过一次，但是那么喜欢的熊哥哥。
格小子说我最近是写什么CP卡什么。然而我想我更严重的问题也许是，中文又退步了……
