Sunday, October 31, 2010
Boy: Tales of Childhood
Roald Dalh - my favourite writer of all time. With him, it's like, childhood is ageless and everything ordinary is turned upside down because of a different pair of eyes.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
friday
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
autumn.
autumn.
by walter de la mare
There is a wind where the rose was;
Cold rain where sweet grass was;
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought gold where your hair was;
Nought warm where your hand was;
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Sad winds where your voice was;
Tears, tears where my heart was;
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The Selfish Giant
The Selfish Giant
Oscar Wilde
1
Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant's garden.
It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. 'How happy we are here!' they cried to each other.
One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.
'What are you doing here?' he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.
'My own garden is my own garden,' said the Giant; 'any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.' So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.
TRESPASSERS
WILL BE
PROSECUTED
He was a very selfish Giant.
The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside.
'How happy we were there,' they said to each other.
Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still Winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. 'Spring has forgotten this garden,' they cried, 'so we will live here all the year round.' The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. 'This is a delightful spot,' he said, 'we must ask the Hail on a visit.' So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.
'I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,' said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; 'I hope there will be a change in the weather.'
But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant's garden she gave none. 'He is too selfish,' she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.
One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King's musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. 'I believe the Spring has come at last,' said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.
What did he see?
He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children's heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still Winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. 'Climb up! little boy,' said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the little boy was too tiny.
And the Giant's heart melted as he looked out. 'How selfish I have been!' he said; 'now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children's playground for ever and ever.' He was really very sorry for what he had done.
So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became Winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he died not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant's neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring. 'It is your garden now, little children,' said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were gong to market at twelve o'clock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.
All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.
'But where is your little companion?' he said: 'the boy I put into the tree.' The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.
'We don't know,' answered the children; 'he has gone away.'
'You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,' said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.
Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. 'How I would like to see him!' he used to say.
Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. 'I have many beautiful flowers,' he said; 'but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.'
One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting.
Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.
Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, 'Who hath dared to wound thee?' For on the palms of the child's hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.
'Who hath dared to wound thee?' cried the Giant; 'tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.'
'Nay!' answered the child; 'but these are the wounds of Love.'
'Who art thou?' said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.
And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, 'You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.'
And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.
Friday movie.
My immediate thought at the end of the motion picture: another failure of an adaptation film (which is commonplace) and the book would probably be much better. But it nonetheless reminded me of my Italian days in summer! All that in Rome and Napoli! The olive oil, the spaghetti, the pizza and the people!
The best depiction of the film: Julia Roberts could not tug in her jeans after speading some time in Italy - that's so true because that's what happened to me then. People definitely need bigger jeans for the abundance of gelato and cheese!
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
蚊子血
「也許每一個男子全都有過這樣的兩個女人，至少兩個。娶了紅玫瑰，久而久之，紅的變了牆上的一抹蚊子血，白的還是『床前明月光』；娶了白玫瑰，白的便是衣服上沾的一粒飯黏子，紅的卻是心口上一顆硃砂痣。」
張愛玲
Monday, October 11, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Sunday night with Woody Allen.
很沉重的一齣戲呢，尤其相對於 Woody Allen 平時的戲來說。沒有半點輕鬆的氣氛，更遑論是笑位了。彷彿下一秒就有甚麼事情就要發生似的。是悲劇一齣，但到最後，人死了，反而覺得對於所有人來說都是解脫。
結論是，不宜星期日看。
British National Corpus
If you are uncertain about the use of a word or tense, checking it out in the corpus is probably the friendliest way to sort everything out because you get to see how people in the English world use it in a real life context (contrary to all these abstract, elaborated, very often decontextualized and unhelpful notes you'd get in a gramma book).
It's reliable, convenient and last but not least, free.
讀書天
昨日星期六，早上照常到中大上課。正值大學開放日，到處擠滿來參觀的高中生，大學生努力在公海派發傳單。人在其中，不禁遙想當年。
課後，教授請飲茶，是開學以後第一次上茶樓飲茶。PGDE (Postgraduate Diploma of Education) Part-time Programme 要在兩年內修畢十個 courses. 這個學期 take 了三個，只有星期六的 English subject core 最輕鬆愉快，亦最 enlightening，每次上課都有茅塞頓開之感。
Friday, October 8, 2010
文章
(攝於香港藝術館，吳冠中生前)
晚飯後第一件事，寫了一封信，給一個中三學生。她說決定中三以後便輟學，出來工作，當美容師。第二件事，批改我班的第一篇英文作文。由衷的感到欣然。星期五的晚上，就這樣坐在窗前三小時寸步不移，卻絲毫不感覺是工作。
中學的時候，對作文又愛又恨。當時迷信靈感之說，相信文章乃感興之作 ( 而今不迷信，但依然相信 )。興之所至，大筆一揮，可以洋洋灑灑直抒己懷；可是一遇上腦閉塞，便怨恨其題目之狹隘以及時間之局限，簡直是對天才的抹殺。對於議論文說明文等實用文章之類，更是意興闌珊。另，我對老師的評語，又期待，又恐懼。事實乃是，我通常對老師的作文評語置若罔聞，有時一眼也不想看它，皆因性格彆扭，對讚美感到受寵若驚、尷尬，對批評又心有不甘。不過一句小小的意見，到底意難平。
最令我印象深刻的是，中六七時候的英語老師 Mrs Kam ( 是個優雅端莊平易近人的老太太) ，竟然可以在作文課的同一天把我們的文章派回。今日想來，觀乎自己的工作量，是有點不可思議。不過當時來說，母校的英語教學吹的算是自由風，英語老師於我們眼中，也算逍遙自在，而且經驗豐富，so perhaps it's just a piece of cake to them. 當然，幸福並非必然。記得中三之時，我們的作文交了出去，便好像石沉大海一樣銷聲匿跡。老師吊兒郎當，學生也不是笨蛋。這兩件關於作文的小事，沒有刻意銘記，但卻自自然然的留在心上。倒是而今自己當了別人的英語老師，方才有感而發，白紙黑字的書寫下來。
其時的文章，像舊時記憶一樣，可以保存的，都保存了下來。藍色的，是我的用心；紅色的，是老師的認真。
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
塞外之行（五）
你永遠沒能知道，在下一段公路上，會遇上怎樣的風景。
十一個小時的路程比想像中過得快。車窗外白雲多變，天由陰轉晴。路上遇上「駱駝尾」，小撮小撮的叢生在路邊，三哥說，花開時，人採以製「牛黃解毒片」。也遇上真的駱駝，一看見人便落荒而逃。途上一定經過不下數十片向日葵花田，一片比一片爛漫，每次看見仍禁不住怦然心動。
早上離開五彩城之前又繞了一圈。天氣好轉了一點，天空露出一小片藍色。一步一景，你說，照片哪拍得那麼多。很多事件，愈是美好，愈是只憑藉眼睛用心記住。那小小的鏡頭，無論廣角有多廣，不過是斷章，取風景的一隅。
吉普車在風塵滾滾的碎石路上左拐右轉，又是顛簸，又是刺激。路，不過是人走出來的。此起想起一首詩：The Road Not Taken.
昨晚睡在蒙古包中，凌晨某時份氣溫驟降，冷得我從睡袋裡爬起來添衣。整夜雨淅瀝，睡不好。六時半，人家門口的公雞執勤報時。我在荒漠之中如廁，也算是平生不會有幾次做的事。哈。
車子北上，晚上到達北彊的布爾津，看過日落，便到夜市填肚子，然後看星星去。三哥指著天邊一道綠色淡光說，那便是極光。
好累，好累。
塞外之行（四）
從烏魯木齊往五彩城的途中遇上向日葵花田。三哥餓著肚子，把車泊在路邊，讓我們下車拍照。
傍晚竟下起雨來，意思是看不到黃昏的日落五彩城，晚上也看不到滿天繁星了。荒漠之中竟然下起雨來，三哥說這是他經驗裡頭一遭。也別有一番況味罷。
五彩城不是一個城，而是古爾班通古特沙漠之中一片因風化而成的奇丘異石。由烏市往五彩城，當中多少小時呢，我都忘了，沒有記下來（沒六個小時也有五個罷）。一開始，吉普車走的是康莊的公路，但當進入了荒漠地帶，四野之中沒有路標，也沒有路燈，前不見人，後更無來者。而路，彷彿是憑空想像出來的。我想起巴別塔那齣電影裡的小兄妹。如果被丟棄在其中，就只盼神仙打救了。
微雨中的五彩城仍是震撼。泥土軟軟的，一腳踩在乾裂的土地上，表面的泥土便立時鬆散掉。小時候唸地理，知道海真會枯，石真會爛。世上，本沒有天長地久這回事。
晚上宿蒙古包，在浩瀚的荒野之中。
只盼明兒天公造美。
塞外之行（三）
深林中，每株松樹旁邊都長著一株白樺樹。松為男，白樺為女，兩樹雙立而不獨生。每每白樺先死，那松也活不了多久。
三哥說：「樹也有感情。」
塞外之行（二）
旅程即將結束之際，在克拉瑪依的晚上，三哥把去年五月新彊烏魯木齊動亂事件的事情告訴我們。餐館裡邊有很多蒼蠅，於是我們在外邊的路旁擺了桌椅。細雨斜風之中有點冷，可是也管不了那麼多。
三哥親自給我們烤羊肉串和羊排。館子的家犬吠到聲嘶力竭仍不肯罷休。館子裡掃地的小伙子很帥氣，輪廓深刻，一看便知道絕非漢人。男生們從小賣店捧來一人一瓶卡瓦斯，嚷著要學三哥徒手開玻璃瓶蓋子的技倆，可是擾攘了一會，還是獻醜罷了。
三哥有時間把自己看得很大，有時候把自己看得很小。天下之間，好像沒甚麼事他是辦不到，沒甚麼地方他去不了的，只他在乎不在乎。與此同時，他的自我，尤以他人為中心，為乎至親，為乎摯愛，他沒甚麼不能放棄。人雖小，愛為大。擇善固執，都在一念之間。
Saturday, October 2, 2010
塞外之行 （一）
壯麗的雪山、冰川、高原和沙漠，從飛機上，驚鴻一瞥。
在烏魯木齊機場會合了三哥以後，他領我們到「九龍酒店」安頓好，就到一家叫「雪蓮花」的清真餐廳吃晚飯。晚上八時多，天仍亮，一層薄薄的陽光，欲褪還留。
三哥點了滿桌的食物，給我們洗塵。小菜非常美味，可是都帶辣，害得我連連冒汗。三哥給我們每人點了一大杯名稱卡瓦斯（讀音：kawas）的飲品，看起來嗅起來都像啤酒，可是完全不帶酒精，味道倒像添了蜜糖的啤酒，清甜解渴，用驚為天人來形容，乃有過之而無不及。卡瓦斯原產自俄羅斯，是各種生果經發酵而成的一種飲料，要品嚐最清純的卡瓦斯，得到伊犁。我們都乾了兩杯。三哥歸心似箭，要回家吃老婆煮的晚飯，故沒有吃太多。
這兒的女孩子真美。身上不過最樸拙的粗布麻衣，臉上不施脂粉，是一種美在輪廓，美在其本身的娟好、一種善意的而自然的秀麗，秀麗在其與別不同。餐廳裡的服務員都年輕、貌美而含蓄，我都禁不住多看兩眼。而街上的人，他看看他們的眼睛，像琉璃一樣，清澈而明亮。
在夜市的攤檔買了以公斤計算的珍珠提子，杏桃和蟠桃。又便宜，又新鮮。友善的老太太一看我們便笑問客從何處來。
