想到多年前讀的"科林斯城傳奇". 徒勞的人啊, 欺瞞歲月的結果, 就會像西席佛斯, 永世推著那一再落下的石頭.....
有時, 那就是夢中所見. 無止盡是件可怕的事, 魘住了, 在明昧之間.
That's it, that's why we wrote to ourselves after so many years had passed. "We read to know we are not alone." We write to know the being of us.
最近才學會的內省, 讓故事不再只是故事. 觀照自我衍生出一個極大的問題: 我是否是我?