For one human being to love another

FOR ONE HUMAN BEING TO LOVE ANOTHER;THAT IS

PERHAPS THE MOST DIFFICULT OF ALL OUR TASKS...

THE WORK FOR WHICH ALL OTHER WORK IS BUT

PREPARATION.

My Skin-Natalie Merchant
Take a look at my body
Look at my hands
There's so much here
That I don't understand
Your face saving promises
Whispered like prayers
I don't need them

I've been treated so wrong
I've been treated so long
As if I'm becoming untouchable
Contempt loves the silence
It thrives in the dark
With fine winding tendrils
That strangle the heart
They say that promises
Sweeten the blow
But I don't need them
No, I don't need them
I've been treated so wrong
I've been treated so long
As if I'm becoming untouchable
I'm a slow dying flower
I'm frost killing hour
The sweet turning sour And untouchable

O, I need The darkness
The sweetness
The sadness
The weakness
O, I need this
I need A lullaby A kiss goodnight Angel sweet Love of my life
O, I need this
I'm a slow dying flower
Frost killing hour
The sweet turning sour And untouchable

Do you remember the way
That you touched me before
All the trembling sweetness
I loved and adored?
Your face saving promises
Whispered like prayers
I don't need them

O, I need
The darkness
The sweetness
The sadness
The weakness
O，I need this
I need
A lullaby
A kiss goodnight
angel sweet
Love of my life
O,I need this
Where Is dark enough?
Can you see me?
Do you want me? Can you reach me?
Or I'm leaving
You better shut your mouth
Hold your breath
Kiss me now
you'll catch my death
O, I mean it

I love my Miss.

《Fingersmith》

一部满是阴谋的电影。

不，这是一部充满了爱的电影。

Sue：My name, in those days, was Susan Trinder. People called me Sue. I know the year I was born in, but for many years I did not know the date, and took my birthday at Christmas. I believe I am an orphan. My mother I know is. dead. But I never saw her, she was nothing to me. I was Mrs Sucksby's child, if I was anyone's; and for father I had Mr Ibbs, who kept the locksmith's shop, at Lant Street, in the Borough, near to the Thames.

我答应了绅士帮他的忙。做她的仆人。

一个月的时间，我必须取得她的信任，帮助绅士娶到她拿到她继承的遗产。

一个晚上，她被噩梦惊醒，我立刻赶到她的床边，“给我药，”她带着颤抖的声音对我说，“陪着我。”于是，就这样开始了，那个晚上，还有以后的晚上，她需要药和我。

我和她朝夕相对，形同姐妹，我们都没有过姐妹；她并不古怪，只是生活在那个可怕的地方让人觉得她古怪，她从来没有离开过那里，从来没有跳过舞，从没玩过游戏，跟我一样，她也从来没有过爱人，几个星期的相处，我忘记了绅士... ...

                                 

是的，绅士还是来了，我突然意识到我来这里的目的，我曾经是那么快乐，我突然开始讨厌绅士，我怎么能对她做这样的事情呢，我想告诉她，他并不爱你，他只是为了你的钱。“看在上帝的份上，为了那三千英镑，”绅士愤怒的冲我吼。

他向她求婚了，她问我：难道你不为我而高兴吗？是的，我不高兴，似乎不是因为他在骗你，而是因为你要跟别人走了。说不上来原因，我告诉绅士不要碰她，因为她不喜欢，我想说出整件事，但是他威胁我，而她又是那么的渴望自由，渴望离开这里，绅士是她唯一的出路。

明晚他们就会私奔了，晚上，我换好衣服躺在她身边，她突然问我，新婚那夜应该做什么......

“天啊，小姐，你应该知道的。”

“我，我从书里知道一点。”

“你怎么可能从书里知道这个？”

“是的，你是对的，我不知道，什么都不知道。

会，发生什么？他会吻我？”

“我想应该会的。”

“吻哪？”

“吻你的唇。”

“只是这里？”

“不，小姐，这只是开始。到时候你自动就会了，小姐。”

“跳舞我就不是自动会，很难，你得教我才会。”

“哦，莫德小姐。”

“我不觉得吻能开始什么。他的吻从来没有开始过什么。”

“ok，look, where is your lips？你就假装我是瑞佛士先生..............................

.........................how, 你感觉到了吗？”

“一种奇妙的，想要的感觉。”

“That's right, 想要瑞佛士先生的感觉。”

“no，我做不来........”

一时间，我也不知道该对她说什么，我是在开心吗？

“小姐，你总有一天得这么做的。”

“不行，我害怕。”

“不要害怕......................................

我爱上了小姐。是的，我爱上了她，如果当时我说“我爱你”她会回答我同样的话，那么所有的事情就不会是那样了..........

Dancing－Tibette ，my love.

爱一个人的感觉，从看见她们以后我才体会到。

Women Before 10 a.m.-Veronique -

It is not that easy to be photographed because it is not always that easy to allow oneself to be seen. Interestingly, what we wish for above all else is to be seen clearly, with the hope that what is there is somehow beautiful simply by virtue of its sheer existence. We hope that someone else’s vision of us will be commensurate to our experience of ourselves. Surely this possibility is most precarious in the early hours of the morning when we are passing through dream’s gate back into the world of “reality.” When we are coming back from that place - sleep - a place that is so intimate, second only to death or perhaps birth, who could presume to see us in all our subtle, unguarded complexity? Would we even want a stranger to greet us at dream’s door when we are so thoroughly ourselves? How do we emerge into the world? Though the gate of ivory or through the gate of horn? What rituals or happenstance take us into the day’s embrace? And who is there to greet us...and would we want them to have a camera?

When Veronique asked to photograph me for her book Women Before 10 a.m. I was undoubtedly the happiest I had ever been. I had just been married the week before in a small town in Michigan, and my husband and I decided to extend our honeymoon at a hotel not far from our house in Los Angeles. I was told Veronique wanted to photograph women before ten in the morning, without assistants, without hair and makeup, and without the usual armaments which guard the public persona like the Great Wall of China. How exciting. How utterly terrifying. Did I even want people to see me? I then thought about how important it was to circumvent the fantasies created by magazines and I agreed.

The night before Veronique arrived, I could hardly sleep. I felt like it was the night before the first day of school. I do not love being photographed, but I do love photography. I love the truth within the fiction. Sometimes when I see a fine photograph, it is so palpably sweet I can taste it in my mouth. By fine I don’t mean it is necessarily hanging in a museum, ordained by the latest curator. I mean fine as in true - as in it has life and God and a sound to it, a vibration all its own. That thing is indescribably delicious. And so, knowing I was embarking on a journey with someone who sought the truth of the thing rather that the publicist’s fiction, I was excited. And unable to sleep. What would she be like? Would she be an insatiable hunter, like so may of the photographers I had met? Or would she be impenetrably silent, like so many others? I knew she was French, and I thought she must be an intrepid soul.

I don’t remember what time she said she would arrive, but I was up by 6a.m. I am an early riser, but not that early. So I waited. And waited. I felt like I was on a first date. I remember my cat Pushkin was with me. My husband lay on the hotel bed sleeping. I took out my own camera and photographed them, and did a few self portraits in my wedding veil. Still no Veronique. I pulled on my sweat pants and went to the hotel gym and ran. And ran some more. And kept running. I like to run, but not that much.
I left the gym sweaty and only slightly wired, and there in front of me appeared a beautiful woman with long dark hair, a camera, and an exquisite sense of calm usually reserved for Persian cats. I felt such relief. Trust was born in an instant, because in that instant I realized she wasn’t a voyeur, but an explorer.

The “session” took less than half an hour. I took a shower, put on my robe, and filled with the exhaustion of relief got back into bed. Veronique saw my veil hanging on the chair and asked if I minded being photographed in it again. No, not at all. That was my life at that moment, and though re-donning the veil was a fiction, it was a fiction filled with truth. My marriage and my joy was how I was emerging from dream’s gate into life - and maybe Veronique sensed that. The only thing missing from the beautiful photograph she took is how wonderful my love smells in the morning.

What follows in this book is how these groups of men emerge from that intimate place of darkness into the day on the particular morning Veronique came to photograph them. Some, still sleeping, gaze at death’s amorous side; unencumbered by manhood, they look like boys. Some you see playing with Veronique; delighted she is there, delighted they are being regarded. Others are shy; some are deeply grounded, confident that they need not present themselves to the camera, knowing it will find them. They are all beautiful.

One of the questions the photographs seem to answer is, how do we prepare for the day? How do we prepare for life? In the smallest actions we create who we are. I love looking at the smallest detail, the smallest action - an old balloon lying on the couch, the way someone washes his hair or holds his cup. It reminds me of what the director Carl Franklin once said to me: The camera is lovingly interested in it all; the camera is interested in you. Veronique Vial is lovingly interested in it all, and she finds the truth in the fiction time and time again, like a seeker who knows where the grail is hidden.

----Jennifer Beals

混乱......

回国的这段时间是有史以来最混乱的。
一直在挣扎，在做决定。焦虑，却不知道具体的原因，隐隐感觉这边不能放手，那边也不能放弃；
突然，看到了这样一句话：对于未来可能会孤独的焦虑，比起拉子身份，更加让我无所适从。
原来这种焦虑是对孤独的恐惧。恐惧似荆棘，绊住了我企图奋力寻求幸福的步伐。而这条路上，没有斩除荆绊的信心和努力，也就没有幸福...
我该怎么做，该怎么做呢........
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2008-08-14 11:30:28
不管怎么样,还是要相信真爱,并且敢于在爱中奋不顾身.
想得越多越什么都不会明白,保护得越多,越什么都不会得到,受不到伤害也无从去得到幸福.
真爱不是碰到的,也不是找到的,而是从心动的那一刻起，用尽力气开凿到的.
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2008-09-12 终于又剪短了头发
30岁以后再走bette路线吧，
趁年轻，SHANE一下...
I look very Shane today!!!
====================================
餐会上，在我看来是教授的玩笑，竟然被他当真了，

周六想和我一起去买Ring.....crazy,crazy.......

拒绝了他

同时，也拒绝了更加混乱...