定点的记忆
文@王晓军
音乐在静静的岁月里流淌，记忆在流年中飞矢般的丢失。
现在是一个人客居在外，经常会想起一些事，属于未来的事。
故事里有我，有她。但最后留下的还是自己的影子。
回忆的时候，总是因为已经失去。
我们好久没见了。但是在安静的时候，心里总沉淀着她，不间断，不停止。
伫立在窗口，柳树的翠枝在风中微微摇曳。
我的记忆慢慢飘飞，飞过时空的界限。在二十年后的某一天，某一刻，某一秒，突然停滞。接着就是回忆的像电视剧一集集的慢慢播放。
似乎那是一个夜晚，似乎是月明星稀。
然后就是蛐蛐的夜鸣，咕咕，遥遥的，遥遥的从大地的最深处传来；一片漆黑的空濛的草，若隐若现的从大脑中飘渺而过；接着就是秋千里依稀荡来爽朗的笑声。
不是我一个来这的，我非常清楚。
还有一个人，那就是她。
她是什么样的？
记忆仿佛丢失的了时空倒流的翅膀，寻找不到。
记忆继续重复的播放。
那是银河，悬挂在天际，不动声色，极像一沟泓泉，安详的是一双犀利的眼眸。
慢慢得，她出现了。朦胧的体态。
像流星一样垂落的秀发，月盘似的脸庞，隐隐的嵌着梨涡的微笑。静静的向前走着，慢慢得。地上搓着的蛩音，从古老的年代坨坨的移来。
她似乎说：“我们就到这吧。”
虽然夜明，但还是忘记了，她是怎样开唇启齿的。或许轻启唇的，或许带着羞涩带着凄凉。
记忆渐渐清晰了。但是一切在此时结束了。
她的面影这样浮现的速度，让我感觉似乎已经真的消逝了几十年。
突然，这个世界变得好可怕。记忆的丢失竟是这么迅速。一秒，忘记了背影，两秒，忘记了面庞。一阵子，竟然全部的身影都飞走了。
留下的是在那个月明星稀的晚上。
一个人走，另一个人跟着走，最后自走。
可是竟然没有想到，走开了一瞬间，仿佛整个世界都变了。我的位置像离弦的箭一般，离她的距离越来越远；就连自己最初站着的位置也迷茫飘远。
唯一没有变得是那空濛的草，晃荡的笑声，遥遥的，渐渐的传来。
我弄不清自己，一切都忘记了，为什么就是忘不记那夜晚的气氛，皎洁的月光，淡淡的惆怅。
也许我的心还一直停留在哪里，就像记忆停滞在二十年的某时某刻一样。
或许以后，就连那种氛围也会从流年的记忆里远去，剩下空白，剩下自己。
此刻，轻音乐还在安静的流淌，我还是处在现在，思维飞越到那时那刻，一直停滞，回忆着那晚的银河，月明。
Fixed-point
memory
Text @ Wang Xiaojun
Music in the years to come quietly flowing, in the fleeting time in
memory loss .
Now is the guest of a person outside, often think of something
belonging to the next thing.
There are stories I have of her. But in the end, or left the shadow
of their own.
Memories of the time, always as it has been lost.
We had not seen for a long time. However, in a quiet time, the
total precipitation her mind, uninterrupted, non-stop.
Standing in the window, the Chui willow branches swaying in the
wind a little.
my memory slowly, over time and space boundaries. Twenty years
later in a day, a moment, a second, a sudden standstill. Followed
by recall dramas like a Chi-Chi's slow play.
It seems that it was a night.
And then the night cricket is the cricket-ming, cuckoo, distant,
and distant from the depths of the earth from the most; Mongolia
empty dark grass, albeit not very clearly from the brain over.
vaguely and then swing to swing in hearty laughter sound.
I am not one to which I am very clear.
There is also a person, it is her.
What is she like?
Loss of memory as if the wings of the space-time back, not looking
for.
Memory continue to repeat the play.
It was the Galaxy, hanging in the sky, calm and collected, very
like a ditch Stephen Wang, serenity is a sharp pair of eyes.
Too slowly, she emerged. Body mist.
ike hair, like a meteor, on disk-like face, a faint smile as pear
vortex. Quietly walked forward, slowly. Rubbed his tone of cricket
on the ground, from the ancient age of the shift to.
She seemed to say: "We went to this bar."
Although the nights out, but have forgotten that she was ashamed of
how open lips. Perhaps the tip, perhaps with a bleak, with
shy.
Memory gradually clearer. However, at this time all over.
Her face video surfaced so quickly, so I feel really seems to have
disappeared for decades.
Suddenly, the world has become a good terrible. Memory loss was so
rapid. Second, to forget the background, two seconds, to forget the
face. While all the figures are actually driven off.
Left in the evening.
A person walking, followed by another walk, and finally self.
However, there is not even thought of, and walked away the moment,
as if the whole world has changed. My position as general arrow
from her getting farther and farther away; even the location of
their initial standing confused also.
Become the only space that Mongolia is the grass, rock of laughter,
distant, and gradually came.
I have not figure out themselves, forget everything, why do not
forget to remember is that the atmosphere of the night, bringing
the moonlight, a touch of melancholy.
Perhaps my heart has been where to stay, just like the memory of a
certain stagnation in the two decades when, like a moment.
Perhaps then, even the kind of atmosphere will be from the memory
of fleeting time away, leaving a blank, leaving their own.
At this moment, music is still quiet running, I still in now,
thinking over that time and that moment has been stagnation, and
memories of the night's Galaxy, Yueming.
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