why, at first. afterwards, i thought, probably i was lonely in fact. i was like a man at sea, who’s surrounded by water but has nothing to drink. although i can’t memorize the specific date now, there must have been such a day on which i understood what it meant for a child not to be able to live with his parents. sometimes, there was an impulse to cry, but i couldn’t because boys are born forbidden crying. when the hustles and bustles in the daytime faded, what i could hear was a camel’s weeping in my heart. during that period, night was drowsy and soundless in my opinion.
time went on like this for 10 years or so, and i lived with my parents again. as i grew older, i could hear more things at night, and the night also exhibited me more of its colors bit by bit, though most of them were simply siren songs. anyway, i know more about the night. one day, i happened to hear mozart’s die zauberflote (magic flute), and then, the fury and impetuosity of night was revealed to me by the singing of the queen of the night. nights are not merely quiet any more. it can be so rich in content, which i had never known. it appears to be calm, but beneath the calmness are undercurrents violent. the night swallows up all the bad, the ugly, the false, and meanwhile, the good, the beautiful, the true, like a certain fat buddha, laughing all the time regardless of what he sees, good or bad. the night was both fair and unfair.
in high school, the major reason for me to stay up late became homework and pc games, and now it comes to be chatting online. sometimes the night becomes the day and the day becomes the night, since i say “good evening” to someone when the sun shines outside and &ld