LOVER BROTHER 爱人同志

English /Chinese

ACT 1

Lover: What is this?

Brother: Swallow it.
Lover: (Swallows)
Lover: I feel terrible... so nauseous... I think I’m going to vomit...
Brother: It will be fine! Cheer up, comrade! Can you feel this rain, this wind? And the light breaking through the western sky—it’s always there. I’ve been gazing at that glory for so long... Let’s keep marching!
Lover: I feel awful. I wish I’d never taken this. Next time, I must remember... don’t eat this damn thing.
(in the disordered pain of an upside-down world, finally loses control and begins to vomit violently; but almost immediately, everything starts to carry another filter.)
Why are the ripples in this water so eternal?
Why do the mosquitoes fly in regular patterns?
At this moment in time, the insane figure of you at my side is the source of all love and inspiration.

Brother: You’re here again tonight.
Lover: I’m here again tonight.
Brother: They’ve already taken it.
(Pointing to three men and women in different postures at the edge of the stage.)
Lover: I’ll follow up right away.
(Swallowing it.)
Lover: I am still feeling very bad… leave me alone for a while.

(Breathing heavily, mouth widely open, kneeling on the floor and bracing. Pause. Suddenly, something wakes her sensation, she raises her head, stretching her hands out to hold it…)
Lover: Oh God... this heavy rain...
(Pause)
(Every drop carries magic. Somber and austere.)
(He is concentrating on writing a poem. Raindrops streak down from the corner of his eye, falls onto the paper, smudging the ink. He doesn’t even look up. The rain plates his jaw with light.)
(She stares at him for a long while.)
Lover: Hey... why are you always so self-absorbed? It makes me feel awful.
Brother: Because I’ve let go of you all. I believe that moving the coddling will lead you to grow your best selves.
Lover: But what if I feel the pain of being ignored...?
Brother: Then that’s your problem to solve. Don’t put your heart on me. Grow up.
Lover: Alright.
Brother: Selfishness is the greatest selflessness.
(Silence)
Lover: Tell me, if someone completely lets go of the people...
Brother: Then be ready to welcome our new leader.

The Old Place, the Old Time

Brother: Twenty-four pills?
Lover: (Soon the pain will come again, that dizziness, sick feeling, and hypersensitivity to the outside world. All I ask is for a little mercy from them—do not play loud music, don’t run around. I am terrified. I can feel my body trembling, my organs sliver with dread as I accept the invitation—)
Yes.
(The world spins. Agony. This time, it’s even worse. She begins to vomit, feeling that her intestines are entangled, and vision blurs.)
Lover: I am having pain in my abdomen lately, have to hold my arms around it from time to time.
Brother: Aren’t you going to the hospital?
Lover: God won’t let me die. Not yet.
(She closes her eyes.)
But I imagine a tumor growing inside me and throbbing. This strange, uncontrollable pain rooted within me, made me grow a strange maternal love.
Brother: You’re quite strange.
Lover: I noticed that people all don’t take themselves seriously, yet hold others in the highest regard. It’s as if they’ve always gazed at others from their own perspective and gazed at themselves at the position of others.

Lover: Dawn is approaching. Why is everything losing its magic?
Brother: Look at the sun! Everything is in it!
Stare at the sun! Stare at the sun! Stare and continue asking from it!
Lover: (She raises her head and glances at it, then immediately shrinks back, shielding her eyes.)
I feel ashamed, unworthy to face it. In the night, seeing the world only by the light of soul, and everything moves with our hearts. But once the sun rises, reality has an objective reference, you and I are nothing but a group of addicts, with nothing accomplished in our hands.
This duality is driving me crazy. At night, we feel like the wisest people in the world, working on the great construction of thoughts. When the day breaks in, we are just a bunch of young people wasting time in front of the bar, creators that haven’t won fame yet.
Brother: Thank goodness there’s still the guise of art on this earth.

(Do you know our lives? Do you know that we too grow beneath the stars? God, I’m too sensitive, that every laugh, every shout, every word of yours reaches the depths of my heart. I am connected to your ever-changing emotions. That’s why I can’t take it anymore. Under the broad daylight, your laughter, your teasing, and shouts—I find it beautiful, but I can only watch the, from afar, like a rat in the sewer... yet cherishing it secretly...)

ACT 2

(Performance Art Live scene)
Lover: Isn’t beauty a form of objectification? Our shallowness deserves the death penalty! Isn’t art just a scam born out of numbness? Now, there are swindles built upon swindles. I’ve seen Marcel Duchamp in hell with my own eyes—he made everyone today only playing with the gossip of art... The problem with his conceptual games, which continue to this day, is that they never fully entered the realm of concepts. The most important moment was when he chose and picked up that urinal, that fountain, which decided everything—decides that Concept is rooted in Material, so the fight remains in the realms of rational numbers and irrational numbers. I think it’s time for the next step! To enter the war of imaginary numbers and real numbers, to drag art completely into the void of concepts. A urinal that was never picked up, never even existed, would be the last conceptual artwork. Who says it needs a physical form? If this is acknowledged, if our revolution succeeds, the centuries-long farce will come to an end. If the concept of art can cease to exist, humans can enter its true history, no longer needing any aesthetic crutches to fill the void. We will step into an era where beauty and awe are felt from within, where everyone will weep at any moment. The greatest preparation we’ll need is a world-scale flood prevention system...
After this, I think we’ll go to a better place... No one will play with concepts anymore. In fact, I feel ashamed doing this... I can’t bear to tell people the truth, or else their endless searching will be for nothing. Anyway, revolution or not, I can’t do art anymore.
(Suddenly looks up) Why are you looking at me like that? Why do your eyes shine with such excitement, as if this is entertaining? Aren’t I talking about something serious? What are you thinking? Say something!
Audience Member 1: What you’re saying is quite amusing...
Audience Member 2: Every generation has people who need to be sacrificed. Sacrifice them! They’re all fools.
Audience Member 3: I love you. Say more! I’m recording.
Lover: (Stunned, then overcome with immense sadness)
No, it’s not like that... Stop talking. I can’t take it anymore.
(She runs away. Outside the bar, he is meditating.)
Brother: Comrade, you’ve come.
Lover: Every time I see you again, I’m truly happy.
Brother: Hmm.
Lover: You know, today I... (Notices his eyes are completely closed. Pauses.) Never mind. Let’s just sit here quietly for a while.
Brother: Hmm.
Lover: I don’t want to be disappointed in people.
Brother: That’s your problem. Keep working on it.
Lover: Fine. You’re always right.
(After a while, Dile finally opens his eyes.)
Brother: I feel that eternal glory approaching, about to envelop me. It will happen this autumn. Cherish the time you have left with me.
Lover: Why aren’t you dead yet?
Brother: I’m already dead.
(Silence)
Lover: I hear the great flood is coming.

A Short Scene: Self-Struggle in the Shadows, Backlit

(Strive to be better, better, better, better—to become a better person.)
(Every flaw perceived in others is but a reflection of one’s own.)
(To witness a life, to see how its imperfections stem from neglect, is to recognize that all are but children, yearning to grow.)
(Every problem is one’s own problem.)
(Love those you hate and despise. Cast aside the pain of neglect, the grievances born of bias and arrogance, and embrace them with boundless compassion.)
(Transcend this pain. Transcend it.)

What will I gain from this?
Nothing.

…Oh God.

The Day of the Great Flood.

(The rain has been pouring for three days, flooding the streets. People gather in their homes, whispering.)
(In an unfinished, ruined factory, concrete bricks, pillars, and wooden planks are scattered. A single bed sits in the center, bathed in orange-red light.)

Lover: What if everything he said was a lie? What if his philosophy was merely a ploy to coax kindness from others? What if his heart harbored malice…
(This shadow follows relentlessly, growing stronger each time.)
What if the labyrinthine constructs of my mind are but a grand deception? What if reality is as mundane as its surface suggests? What if you and I were never truly together…? Our connection, our conversations, the intricate dance of symbols and games, the fog we deliberately weave with words—sometimes I awaken in terror, fearing that when the fog dissipates, there will be nothing left… Yet all I believe in are the moments we’ve shared. If all of that is false, I will be utterly crushed, unable to rise for a long time…
(She paces, then approaches another person playing the piano.)

Lover: Are we in the same universe?
Brother: (Putting down the piano) Of course we are. What are you thinking?
Lover: Then I’ll believe it for now. But I’m so afraid.
Brother: Tell me.
Lover: I’m afraid you’ll abandon this place and abandon me. This morning, I dreamt of our ruined castle, now filled with dozens of friends, all unfamiliar faces. While I brewed Mexican cactus, they devoured it behind my back. Then someone called the police, and you… you saw me standing there, terrified, yet you gazed at me with that transcendent look, condemning me, saying it must be my fault for things to have come to this… I couldn’t refute it. I had nothing to say. That scene filled me with pain and fear because I know, when this place collapses one day, you won’t save me. In fact, you wouldn’t be able to.
Brother: …You’re making an imaginary sacrifice.
Lover: It’s not like that. I know you too well… You’re too attached to the idea of karma, the natural order, unwilling to intervene.
Brother: I can’t take this energy anymore. You’re doubting me, and you know how sensitive I am. I need to leave for a while. I need to go.
Lover: (To herself)
You taught me to trust everyone from the bottom of my heart. To trust you. To trust them, that none harbor ill will, that they will all do their best, someday.
I’ve been struggling, fearing that your words were just casual remarks, but I took them all seriously… Proof that what I thought we were building together with great ideals and justice is actually a joke. This is the deepest fear of a communist…
(She approaches another person sitting in the shadows, head bowed.)

Lover: Did I upset you? Okay, hey, hey, forget everything I just said. It’s fine. I believe in you.
Brother: I think I’m just a mirror.
(He leaves. She lies back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.)
(Silence. A third person appears, humming a tune. She turns, rolls off the bed, and tiptoes toward him, hands behind her back.)

Lover: Ah! (Startling him) It’s me. Hey, hey. I’m so glad you’re here. I’m in agony.
Kashmir: Are you okay? What’s wrong?
Lover: I’m falling apart inside. (Leaning on him)
Kashmir: Shh, shh, it’s okay.
Lover: Why did you come back so late?
Kashmir: I went into the city this afternoon. Your friend treated me to a meal—that artist who’s working for a real estate developer to make ends meet. He was wearing a crisp suit and tie, pretending I was his client, like this (clears throat, speaking in a strange voice), “Sir, are you satisfied with this apartment?” Then he snuck out with me under the guise of showing properties. And this guy is the leader of an underground art organization…
Lover: Tell me more. I love hearing about these little everyday things. They make me feel alive.
Kashmir: Don’t you usually live in the human world?
Lover: Hard to say. Don’t you feel the aura of death here? Lately, we’ve been in a state of near-nirvana, eternal calm, so whenever I look at my comrades, I feel a transcendent sadness.
Kashmir: I don’t get it. I think you’re too decadent.
Lover: We’re actually intermittently filled with great hope.
Kashmir: (Phone rings) Hello?… I need to take this call.
Lover: (Walks into Dile’s room.)
(Starlight shines. He is curled up on the floor, asleep, motionless, incredibly thin.)
(She stops at the door, swaying slightly, then leans against the doorframe, watching him for a minute.)
What am I even doubting? You’re already dead. These days we’ve spent together, every second is now a memory.
(She walks back to the bed and lies down.)

Kashmir: I’m back! How about we go out? I can play the piano for you.
Lover: (Silent, staring at the ceiling)
Kashmir: What’s wrong?
Kashmir: Hey…
(Silence. He leaves, feeling awkward.)

In a Sea of Starlight

Your frail body, curled up,
Thoughts and inspirations surging, your spirit radiant,
While your flesh fades away,
As if you died in the cosmos long ago.

I remember when you were still alive,
Releasing a fish into the flooded streets,
And your hunched figure,
Taking wine from the bottom freezer.

This love,
Desperate and broken, unbearable,
I once poisoned myself,
Out of jealousy, pride, and possessiveness.
Now,
My love for you is dead.
Death means
Eternal constancy,
Like a tombstone, a statue,
Never to change again.

In the realm beyond all others,
He walks forward, bowing humbly,
Because the people have begun
To fear
That perfection.
On the other end of the human world
Is eternal glory.
When he reaches heaven, he will also die,
And be utterly alone.

(The Next Morning)

Brother: Good morning.
Lover: Every time I see you, I’m so happy.
Brother: Me too.
(She brings fried eggs and coffee. They sit at the table, eating in silence.)

Lover: I had a dream. A man boarded a plane. The ultimate love he had pursued his entire life awaited him at the destination, in another mundane world. But after takeoff, the truth was revealed. In the roar of the plane, he swallowed a poisonous orb. The higher he flew, the fainter everything became, until at the peak, all he saw was an empty, pure white.
…Comrade?
(A loud crash. He collapses onto the table, dead.)

(End of scene.)

第一幕

爱人：这是什么？

兄：咽下去。

爱人：（咽下）

爱人：我感觉不好，我好难受，好想吐……

兄：没事！振作起来同志，你感受到这雨和这风了吗，还有西天透出的光芒，它总是在那里，我望着那荣光已久….

我们继续前进！

爱人：我好难受。我希望我从未吃过，下次一定要牢记……别吃这玩意儿。

（昏天黑地的身体痛苦中，终于失去控制开始狂吐不止，但也非常快速地，一切开始带上另一种滤镜。）

为什么这水的波纹如此永恒？

为什么这蚊虫飞舞的方式充满规律？

此时此刻，我身边疯癫的你，是一切灵感与爱的最大来源。

兄：今夜你又来？

兄：今夜我又来。

兄：他们已经吞下这些了。

(指了指舞台边缘三个不同姿势的男女)

爱人：我马上跟上。

（吞下）

爱人：我还是感觉非常差劲……放我独自一会儿。

（大口呼吸，在地板上跪撑着。暂停。突然她感觉到些什么，仰头伸开双手去接。）

爱人：天啊……这场大雨……

（停顿）

（每一滴水都带有魔力。冷静而萧杀。）

（他正全神贯注地写诗，雨水从他眼角划下，落到纸面上洇开墨水，他没有抬一下头。雨水为他脸颊的棱角镀上光。）

（她盯着瞧了好一会儿。）

爱人：嘿……为什么你总是那么自顾自的呢？这让我感觉很糟。

兄：因为我对你们放手了，我相信不关照你们会让你们走到最好。

爱人：如果我因此感觉到一种被冷落的痛苦……？

兄：那就是你自己要解决的问题了。别把心放在我身上，长大吧。

爱人：好吧。

兄：自私就是最大的无私。

（沉默）

爱人：你说，如果出现一个对人民彻底放手了的人……

兄：那就随时准备迎接新的领袖。

老地方与老时间。

兄：来二十四颗？

爱人：（很快又要经历那种痛苦，那种眩晕，恶心，对外界的极度敏感。只求他们对我慈悲一点，在那种时候不要播放吵闹的音乐，不要东奔西跑。我是恐惧的，我可以感觉到我的身体在颤栗着，我的五脏六腑都怀着某种惊惧等待着我答应邀约。）

来。

（天旋地转的难受。痛苦。这一次情况更加严重，开始呕吐，腹泻，视力模糊不清。）

爱人：我的肚子最近一直在痛，不得不时时捧腹。

兄：你不去查查吗？

爱人：老天不舍得让我死的。目前还不会。

（闭着眼）

但我想象着里面有一个肿瘤在成长、抽痛，这种扎根于你内部又不受控制的陌生疼痛，使得我生出一种怪异的母爱来。

兄：你真怪。

爱人：我发现人们都很不拿自己当回事儿，却把他人看得无比珍重。就如同他们从小就站在自我的视角凝视他人，又站在他人的视角凝视自己。

爱人：天将要亮了。为什么一切都在逐渐失去魔力？

兄：你看那太阳啊！那里面有一切！

看太阳！看太阳！盯着它一直要！

爱人：（转眼去看，下一秒就又瑟缩地遮住眼睛）

我感到羞愧，无颜面对它。黑夜中唯靠灵魂的烛光查看世界，万物随心而动，可是太阳一旦出来，现实有了客观的参照物，你我不过是一群一事无成的瘾君子。

这种双重性快要逼疯我。在夜间我们感觉是世界上最聪明的人，在进行伟大的思维构建；天亮后，我们只是酒吧门口虚度光阴的年轻人们，尚未有名气的创作者。

兄：幸亏世界上还有艺术这个幌子。

（你了解我们的生活吗？你知道我们也在星空之下生长着吗？天啊，我过于敏感，以至于你的嬉笑怒骂全都一字不差地传递到我心底，我同你们千变万化的情绪相连。所以我受不了了，大白天光下你们的调笑吵闹、喊叫，我觉得很美好，但是我只能远远地看着了，像下水道里的老鼠……但也悄悄珍惜着……）

第二幕

（行为现场表演）

爱人：你说美不是一种物化吗？你我的这等浅薄应当被判处死刑！你说艺术难道不是一种正因麻木而诞生的骗局吗？如今骗局之上还有骗局了。我已经亲眼在地狱见到杜尚，他害得如今大家都只是在玩弄艺术的绯闻……他那一套被延续至今的概念游戏最大的问题是却也没有完全进入概念，最重要的就是他选择和拿起那一个小便池的瞬间，决定了一切，决定了概念植根于物质，因此一切依旧是有理数与无理数域的争执。我看是时候进行下一步了！进入到虚数与实数的境界，将艺术彻底拽入空无一物的概念之中，一个不曾被拿起甚至不曾确实存在的并非小便池的小便池就会是最后的当代艺术品，谁说要有实体。如果获得这一种承认，如果我们的革命成功，数百年的闹剧就将要终结；如果艺术的概念能不再存在，人类就能进入人类真正的历史，不再需要任何状似美学的外物填充麻木，而迈入从自我中感知一切无限的美与震撼的时代，到时人人都会随时落泪，我们要做的最大准备措施就是世界级的防洪了……

在这之后，我想我们会去到一个更美好的地方吧……将不再有人玩弄概念这一套了，实际上，做这么一件事我也羞愧难当……我有些不忍心告诉人们真相，不然他们的上下求索都是一种无物呢。总之，不论革不革命，我无法做艺术了。

（突然抬头）为什么你们这样看着我？为什么你们的眼神这样闪着光又充满了某种娱乐性的兴奋？难道我在谈的不是某种很严肃的事情吗？你们在想什么？说点什么吧？

：你说的这些东西挺好玩……

：每一代都有需要被牺牲的人民，牺牲他们吧！他们都是傻瓜。

：爱你，再多说点吧！我在录像。

爱人：（愣住，随后陷入极大的悲伤）

不是这样的，不是的……别说那些了，我受不了了。

（逃跑。酒吧门口。他在打坐）

兄：同志，你来了。

爱人：每一次再见到你，真的很高兴的。

兄：嗯。

爱人：你知道，今天我……（发现对方完全闭着眼，停顿）算了，我们就简单地坐一会儿吧。

兄：嗯。

爱人：我不想对人们失望。

兄：那是你的问题，继续努力。

爱人：好吧。你总是对的。

（好一会儿，他终于睁眼：）

兄：我感觉那道永恒荣光将近，快要把我照进去了。就是这个秋天。珍惜还能见到我的时间吧。

爱人：你怎么还没有死呢？

兄：我已经死了。

（沉默）

爱人：听闻大洪水要来了。

短小一幕 背光 阴影里的自我挣扎

（做到更好，更好，更好，更好，成为更好的人。）

（在他人身上看到的一切问题都是自己的问题。）

（如果见他人的一生，见他的缺陷来自于被冷落之处，人们就都只是待成长的孩子。）

（一切问题都是自己的问题。）

（爱你仇恨厌恶的人。抛去那些因受冷落而委屈的痛苦的情感，抛去偏见和傲慢，大爱他们。）

（超越这些痛苦。超越它。）

我将得到什么吗？

什么都没有。

…天啊。

大洪水日。

（雨下了整整三日，街道都被雨水淹没，人们聚在家里窃窃私语。）

（未装修的废墟厂房，水泥砖与柱与木板四散，中央只有一张床，被橙红灯光笼罩。）

艾仁：如果他所说的皆为欺骗？如果他的哲学只是诱骗别人对他好？如果他是怀着不善心的……

（这个阴影如影随形 一次比一次来得猛烈）

如果我脑中所迂回曲折构想的这一切都是大骗局，如果事物真像一切最浅层的表象一样平淡无奇，如果你跟我，根本从不在一起……我们的连结，我们的对话，充斥着重重意象的迂回曲折的博弈，你我刻意在语言中散播的迷雾，时不时我却醒过来恐惧迷雾散去后空无一物……可是我信仰的全部是我们曾度过的那些，如果这一切都是假的，那么我会被彻底击倒，很久无法再爬起来……

（踱步，凑近弹琴的另一人）

爱人：我们在同一个宇宙里吗？

兄：（放下琴）我们当然在啊，你想什么呢。

爱人：那我暂且相信吧。但我太害怕了。

兄：告诉我。

爱人：我害怕你会背离这里（背离我）而去。今早我做了一个梦，梦到在我们的废墟城堡里，已经有几十个朋友了，都是陌生的面孔。在我熬煮墨西哥仙人掌时，他们趁我转身时分食了，随后不知谁报了警，而你……你见我在原地恐惧不已，依旧以那种超然一切的目光谴责我，一定是我曾经做错才会走到今天这步……我无法反驳，我无话可说。那一幕，让我痛苦恐惧不已，因为我确实知道，等到有一天这里崩塌时，你确实不会救我的，实际上，你也没有能力。

兄：……你是在做想象中的牺牲啊。

爱人：不是这样的，我实在是太了解你了……你太认同因果轮回，大道自然，不愿做任何干涉。

兄：我受不了这种能量了，你在怀疑我，你知道我是非常敏感的。我要离开一会儿，我要离开。

爱人：（在原地自语）

是你教导我发自心底地信任每一个人。信任你。信任他们，全都未曾有不善念。全都会做到最好，终有一天。

我一直在反复挣扎着，我恐惧你的话语实际上只是随口一说，我却全部当真了……证明我以为我们怀着极大理想和正义在共同构建的，实则是一个笑话，这就是共产主义者的最深恐惧了……

（去找阴影中垂头坐着的另一人）

爱人：我让你难过了吗？好吧，嘿，嘿，忘了我刚刚说的所有吧，没事的，我相信你。

兄：我觉得我其实是面镜子。

（他离去，她躺回床上盯着天花板）

（静默，陌生的第三人哼着小曲出现。她转头，滚下床，从阴影里踮脚背着手到他跟前。）

爱人：啊！（吓人一跳）是我。嘿，嘿。还好你出现了，我快要痛苦死啦。

克什：你还好吗？你怎么了？

爱人：我的内在快要崩溃了。（倒在他身上）

克什：嘘，嘘，没事的。

爱人：你怎么这时才回来？

克什：我今天下午去了城里，你的朋友请我吃了个饭，那个艺术家，正因为生活无以为继在房地产商手下打工。他穿着一身笔挺的西装衬衫，打着领带，义正言辞地假装我是他的客户，像这样（清了清嗓子用怪声说话）“先生，您看这套小户型你满意吗？”然后以陪客户看房的名义跟我溜出去玩。这样的人居然是地下艺术组织的领袖……

爱人：多说点，我喜欢听你谈这些，这种人间的日常小事，让我感觉活过来了。

克什：你们平时不在人间吗？

爱人：难说。你没觉得这里蔓延着一股死气吗？我们最近处于一种近乎于涅槃的永恒平静里，因此我望着同志时总是感到一种超越性的悲伤。

克什：我不懂，我觉得你们太颓废了。

爱人：我们实际上是间歇性怀抱着极大希望的。

克什：（铃声响起）喂？….我去接个电话。

爱人：（走进。走进狄剋的屋子。）

（星光闪耀，他在地板中间蜷缩睡着，静止着，无比瘦弱。）

（她走到门前，站住了。身体微微地摇晃，随之向旁边倾倒，倚在门边，这样看了他有一分钟。）

我究竟在怀疑些什么？你都已经死了。这些生活在一起的日子，每一秒都是回忆了 。

（走回床上躺着）

克什：我回来了！怎么样，出去玩吧？我可以弹钢琴给你听。

爱人：（一言不发，看着天花板）

克什：怎么了吗？

克什：嘿…

（沉默，自讨没趣地离开）

一片星光里

蜷縮著的 你瘦弱的身體

思想靈思湧動 心靈充滿光輝 肉體

逐漸消逝

像是在宇宙里死去多年

我記得你尚在人世時

在淹沒街道的雨水中

放生一條魚的樣子

和從底層的冰櫃中

拿取酒的

佝僂的身影。

這愛意

絕望而殘破 不堪忍受

我曾毒殺我自己

因為嫉妒 傲慢 佔有欲

現在

我對你的愛意已死

死意味著

恆常不變

如同墓碑 塑像

不會再發生任何改變。

在超越所有人的無人之境

他是多麼卑躬屈膝地向前走著

因為人民已經開始

懼於

那種完美性。

人間世的另一端

是永恆的榮光

達到天國時他也將死

並孤獨異常。

（第二日早上）

兄：早上好。

爱人：每次见到你，总是很高兴的。

兄：我也是。

（她端来煎蛋和咖啡，两人坐在桌前吃着。片刻安静。）

爱人：我做了一个梦。一个男人，坐上了飞机，他追求了毕生的至高的爱就在终点，在下落后的地面，另一片俗世。但是起飞后，一切真实的真相就幡然若揭。在飞机轰鸣中他吞下剧毒的食图球，飞行越高，眼前的一切越淡，最后在至高点，目之所见变为空无一物的洁白。

……同志？

（一声巨响，他倒在餐桌上死了。）

（这一幕完）