Jet-lagging

在中國渡過了許多日子。 許多。 是否多得足以讓我找到一些什麽？答案是肯定的。 我覺得這樣就很幸運了。三十二歲生日時在黃河以西，找回自己在長江以南。 如今在大洋這邊，看著 清真餐廳的落地玻璃窗外站著一個乞討的老頭子。 拄著拐杖，戴著氈帽。 據說他每天都來。 於是沒有人起身。 老頭子嘻嘻笑了。 用手敲了敲玻璃。 走了。 或許那就是時間。 It knocks on the window.　 Waits to be attended. Lefts, when ignored. Strange, isn't it?　This is the first thing which comes to my mind when I think of that day, when I have seen the beautiful landscape along the Hexi Corridor, when I was progressing into an important stage of my film project. That day. I do not want to write about the landscape, nor about my film. I want to write about time. Lost. But never gone. I saw it with my own eyes. Time.