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麦克尤恩 - 爱无可忍 - 7

(2011-09-29 17:30:57)
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杂谈

分类: 学英文
                                                Seven
Outside our apartment building, running straight on rising ground, was an avenue of plane trees just coming into leaf. As soon as I stepped out on to the pavement I saw Parry standing under a tree at the corner, a hundred yards away. When he saw me he took his hands out of his pockets, folded his arms, then let them droop. He began to come towards me, changed his mind and went back to his tree. I walked towards him slowly, and felt my anxiety dropping away.
As I came closer Parry retreated further under his tree, leaned back against its trunk and tried to look nonchalant by hooking a thumb into his trouser pocket. In fact he looked abject. He appeared smaller, all knobs and bones, no longer the sleek Indian brave, despite the pony-tail. He wouldn’t meet my eye as I came up, or rather his eyes made a nervous pass across my face, and then turned down. As I put out my hand I was feeling quite relieved. Clarissa was right, he was a harmless fellow with a strange notion, a nuisance at most, hardly the threat I had made him out to be. He looked a sorry sight now, cringing under the fresh plane leaves. It was the accident, and the afterwaves of shock that had distorted my understanding. I had translated farce into indefinable menace. His hand, when it shook mine, exerted no pressure. I spoke to him firmly, but with a little kindness too. He was just about young enough to be my son. ‘You’d better tell me what this is all about.’
He said, ‘There’s a coffee place . . .’ and he nodded in the direction of the Edgware Road.
‘We’ll be fine right here,’ I said. ‘I don’t have a lot of time.’

第七章

    在我们的公寓大楼外,一条林荫大道笔直地沿着上升的路面伸展,道路两旁栽种着新叶初萌的法国梧桐。我一踏上人行道,就看见帕里站在一百码外街角的一棵树 下。看到我后,他把双手从兜里掏出来,抱拢双臂,然后又放下。他刚准备朝我走过来,然后又改变了主意,转身回到那棵树边。我慢慢地走向他,感到自己的焦虑 逐渐消失。

    我越靠近,帕里就退得越远,一直退到树下。他靠着树干,大拇指钩在裤兜上,装出一副若无其事的样子。实际上,他看上去很落魄。他的个头显得比那天要矮小, 一身皮包骨头,尽管还是梳着马尾辫,但已经不再像个健壮的印第安武士了。我走近他时,他不愿与我四目相视。确切地说,他只是紧张地扫过我的脸庞,就垂下了 眼睛。我伸出手,心里轻松了很多。克拉莉莎说得对,他头脑古怪,却并无恶意,顶多算个讨人嫌的家伙罢了,根本不像我原先以为的那样是个威胁。现在,他带着 一副可怜相,蜷缩在新生的梧桐叶下。是那场事故,还有震惊所带来的余波,扭曲了我的理解。我把一场闹剧理解成了难以言状的威胁。我们握了握手,他并没有用 力。开口时,我的语气坚定,却又带着一丝仁慈。他很年轻,论年纪顶多可以做我的儿子。我说:“你最好告诉我这都是怎么回事。”

    “这附近有家咖啡馆……”他朝爱德华尔路爱德华尔路(Edgware Road):穿过伦敦西部威斯敏斯特市内的一条主要街道。的方向点了点头。

    “在这儿谈就行,”我说,“我的时间不多。”

The wind had got up again, and seemed sharpened by the thin sunlight. I drew my coat around me and tightened its belt and as I did so I glanced at Parry’s shoes. No trainers today. Soft brown leather shoes, handmade perhaps. I went and leaned against a nearby wall and folded my arms.
Parry came away from the tree and stood in front of me, staring at his feet. ‘I’d rather we went inside,’ he said, with a hint of a whine.
I said nothing and waited. He sighed and looked down the street to where I lived, and then his gaze tracked a passing car. He looked up at the piles of towering cumulus, and he examined the nails of his right hand, but he could not look at me. When he spoke at last, I think his sightline was on a crack in the pavement.
‘Something’s happened,’ he said.
He wasn’t going to continue, so I said, ‘What’s happened?’
He breathed in deeply through his nose. He still would not look at me. ‘You know what it is,’ he said sulkily.
I tried to help him. ‘Are we talking about the accident?’
‘You know what it is, but you want me to say it.’
I said, ‘I think you’d better. I have to go soon.’
风又吹了起来,而且在微弱的阳光下仿佛刮得更猛了。我拉紧外套,束紧腰带,这时,我瞥了一眼帕里的鞋。今天他没穿运动鞋,而是穿了一双棕色软牛皮鞋,也许是手工定制的。我走过去,靠在近旁的一堵墙上,双臂交叉抱在胸前。

    帕里从树下走到我面前,盯着自己的双脚。“我更愿意进屋里谈。”他带着一丝哀求说道。

    我什么也没说,只是等待着。他叹了口气,头朝下看着我家楼下的大街路面,然后目光跟上一辆驶过的汽车。他抬起头,望着天空中高耸厚重的积云,又检查了下右手指甲,但就是不能看着我。当他终于开口说话时,我觉得他的视线集中在人行道的一条裂缝上。

    “出事了。”他说。

    他没有继续往下说,于是我问:“出了什么事?”

    他深吸了口气,还是没有看我。“你知道出了什么事。”他愠怒地说。

    我试着帮他开场:“我们是在谈那次事故吗?”

    “你知道出了什么事,你就是想让我把它说出来。”

    我说:“我想你最好快说,我马上就得走了。”

‘It’s all about control, isn’t it?’ He had flashed a look of adolescent defiance at me and now his gaze was down again. ‘It’s so stupid to play games. Why don’t you just say it. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.’
I looked at my watch. This was my best time of day for work, and I had yet to get into central London to collect a book. An empty taxi was coming towards us. Parry saw it too.
‘You think you’re being cool about this, but it’s ridiculous. You won’t be able to keep it up, and you know it. Everything’s changed now. Please don’t put on this act. Please . . .’
We watched the taxi go past. I said, ‘You asked me to meet you because you had something to say.’
‘You’re very cruel,’ he said. ‘But you’ve got all the power.’ He inhaled deeply through his nose again, as though preparing himself for some difficult circus feat. He managed to look at me as he said simply, ‘You love me. You love me, and there’s nothing I can do but return your love.’
I said nothing. Parry drew another deep breath. ‘I don’t know why you’ve chosen me. All I know is that I love you too now, and that there’s a reason for it, a purpose.’
An ambulance with a whooping siren went by and we had to wait. I was wondering how to respond, and whether a show of anger might see him off, but in the few seconds that it took for the din to recede I decided to be firm and reasonable. ‘Look, Mr Parry . . .’
‘Jed,’ he said urgently. ‘It’s Jed.’ His interrogative style had deserted him.
“都是因为控制,不是吗?”他用青春期叛逆似的目光瞟了我一眼,又垂下了眼帘。“敷衍了事太傻了,你为什么就不说出来?这没什么可害臊的。”

    我看了看表。正是一天中最适合我工作的时段,我还得到伦敦市中心去取一本书。一辆空出租车正向我们驶来,帕里也看到了。

    “你以为你在这件事上表现得很冷静,但这太荒谬了!你不会一直保持沉着的,这你清楚。现在一切都变了。请别再这样装模作样的了!求求你……”

    我们眼睁睁地看着那辆出租车开过。我说:“你叫我出来见你,是因为你有话要说。”

    “你的心可真狠,”他说,“但是你拥有绝对的权力。”他又深吸了口气,好像在为某个高难度的马戏动作做准备。他直视我的眼睛,坦率地说:“你爱我。你爱我,而除了回报你的爱,我别无他法。”

    我什么也没说。帕里又深吸了口气。“我不知道你为什么选择了我。我只知道,现在我也爱上了你,并且这份爱是有原因的,为了一个目的。”

    一辆救护车带着呼啸的警笛声驶来,我们不得不等它开过去。我在考虑如何回答,是否可以用发怒把他赶走。但在喧嚣渐渐远去的几秒钟内,我决定坚定而理智地回答。“瞧,帕里先生……”

    “杰德,”他急促地说,“叫我杰德。”他的语气不再带有那种疑问的味道了。

I said, ‘I don’t know you, I don’t know where you live, or what you do, or who you are. I don’t particularly want to know either. I’ve met you once before and I can tell you now that I have no feelings for you either way . . .’
Parry was speaking over me in a series of gasps. He was pushing his hands out before him, as though to repel my words. ‘Please don’t do this . . . It doesn’t have to be this way, honestly. You don’t have to do this to me.’
We both paused suddenly. I wondered whether to leave him now and walk up the road to find a taxi. Perhaps talking was making matters worse.
Parry crossed his arms and adopted a worldly, man-to-man tone. I thought perhaps I was being parodied. ‘Look. You don’t have to go about it like this. You could save us both so much misery.’
I said, ‘You were following me yesterday, weren’t you?’
He looked away and said nothing which I took as confirmation.
‘What possible reason would you have for thinking I love you?’ I tried to make the question sound sincere, and not merely rhetorical. I was quite interested to know, although I also wanted to get away.
‘Don’t,’ Parry said through a whisper. ‘Please don’t.’ His lower lip was trembling.
But I pressed on. ‘As I remember it, we spoke at the bottom of the hill. I can understand if you felt strange after the accident. I certainly did.’

我说:“我不认识你,也不知道你住在哪里,做什么工作,或者你是谁。我也不是特别想知道这些。我以前见过你一面,现在我可以告诉你,无论从哪方面来说,我对你都没有感觉……”

    帕里说话时发出一串喘息,盖过了我的声音。他双手前推,像是在抵制我的话。“求你别这样做……真的,事情本来不必弄成这个地步的。你用不着对我这样子。”

    我们俩顿时都定住了。我心想是不是该离开他,到路边找辆出租车。也许谈话只会使事情变得更糟。

    帕里抱起胳膊,腔调变得坦率而世故起来。我想,也许他正在拙劣地模仿我讲话。“瞧,你没必要这样做。你可以让我们俩都免受这么深重的苦难。”

    我问他:“你昨天跟踪过我,是不是?”

    他把目光转向别处,一言不发。我想他这是默认了。

    “是什么原因让你认为我爱你呢?”我竭力想让这个问题听上去诚恳一点,而不仅仅是矫饰。尽管我很想离开,我还是有兴趣知道答案。

    “别这样,”帕里低声说,“请别这样。”他的下唇在颤抖。

    但我紧逼道:“我记得我们在山脚下谈过话。如果你在事故后感到心中不安,这我能够理解。我自己就这样觉得。”

At this point, to my great surprise, Parry put his hands over his face and started to cry. He was also trying to say something which I could not hear at first. Then I made it out. ‘Why? Why? Why?’ he kept on saying. And then, when he had recovered a little he said, ‘What have I done to you? Why are you keeping this up?’ The question made him cry again. I came away from the wall where I had been standing and walked a few paces from him. He stumbled after me, trying to regain his voice. ‘I can’t control my feelings the way you can,’ he said. ‘I know this gives you power over me, but there’s nothing I can do about it.’
‘Believe me, I have no feelings to control,’ I said.
He was watching my face with a kind of hunger, a desperation. ‘If it’s a joke, it’s time to stop. It’s doing us both damage.’
‘Look,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to go now. I don’t expect to hear from you again.’
‘Oh God,’ he wailed. ‘You say that, and then you make that face. What is it you really want me to do?’
I was feeling suffocated. I turned and walked away quickly towards the Edgware Road. I heard him come running up behind me. Then he was plucking at my sleeve, and trying to take my arm. ‘Please, please,’ he said in a gabble. ‘You can’t leave it like that. Tell me something, give me one little thing. The truth, or just a part of the truth. Just say that you’re torturing me. I won’t ask the reason. But please tell me that’s what you’re doing.’
就在这时,令我大吃一惊的是,帕里用双手捂住脸放声大哭。他也努力想说些什么,但一开始我没法听清,然后才勉强听了出来。“为什么?为什么?为什 么?”他不停地说。接着,他稍微缓过来了一点,问道:“我对你做了什么?为什么你要一直这样折磨我?”说完他又开始嚎啕。我从靠着的墙上站起来,从他面前 走开几步。他在我背后哽咽着,试图恢复正常的声音。“我不能像你那样控制自己的感情,”他说,“我知道,这给了你支配我的权力,但我没办法啊。”

    “相信我,我没有什么情感要控制的。”我说。

    他带着几分渴望与绝望交织的表情,看着我的脸。“如果这是个玩笑,那么现在该停止了。它正在伤害我们。”

    “瞧,”我说,“我现在必须要走了。我不想再听到你的消息。”

    “哦,天哪!”他痛哭道,“你竟用这种态度说这番话。你到底想让我做什么?”

    我感到一阵窒息,便转过身,迅速朝爱德华尔路走去。我听见他在身后追赶。他追了上来,一把拽住我的衣袖,想要拉我的胳膊。“求你了,求你了,”他上气不接 下气地说,“你不能就这样一走了之。告诉我些什么,给我讲讲小小的理由。我要的是真相,或者只是一部分真相就行。告诉我,你这是在折磨我。我不会问你为什 么的。但是请你告诉我,你现在就是在折磨我。”

I pulled my arm away and stopped. ‘I don’t know who you are. I don’t understand what you want, and I don’t care. Now, will you leave me alone?’
Suddenly, he was bitter. ‘Very funny,’ he said. ‘You’re not even trying to be convincing. That’s what’s so insulting about it.’
He put his hands on his hips, and for the first time I found myself calculating the physical danger he presented. I was bigger, and I still worked out, but I’ve never hit anyone in my life and he was twenty years younger, with big jointed knuckles, and a desperate cause – whatever it was. I straightened my back to make myself taller.
‘It hadn’t occurred to me to insult you,’ I said. ‘Until now.’
Parry moved his hands from his hips and presented his open palms. What was so exhausting about him was the variety of his emotional states and the speed of their transitions. Reasonableness, tears, desperation, vague threat – and now, honest supplication. ‘Joe, please, look at me, remember who I am, remember what moved you in the first place.’
The whites of his eyes were exceptionally clear. He held my stare for a second before looking away. I was beginning to see the pattern of a conversational tic he suffered when he spoke. He caught your eye, then turned his head to speak as though addressing a presence at his side, or an invisible creature perched on his shoulder. ‘Don’t deny us,’ he said to it now. ‘Don’t deny what we have. And please don’t play this game with me. I know you’ll find it a difficult idea, and you’ll resist it, but we’ve come together for a purpose.’
I should have walked on, but his intensity held me for the moment and I had just sufficient curiosity to echo him. ‘Purpose?’
‘Something passed between us, up there on the hill, after he fell. It was pure energy, pure light?’ Parry was beginning to come alive, and now that his immediate distress was behind him, the interrogative inflection had returned to his statements. ‘The fact that you love me,’ he continued, ‘and that I love you, is not important. It’s just the means . . .’
The means?
He addressed my frown, as though explaining the obvious to a simpleton. ‘To bring you to God, through love. You’ll fight this like mad because you’re a long way from your own feelings? But I know that the Christ is within you. At some level you know it too. That’s why you fight it so hard with your education and reason and logic and this detached way you have of talking, as if you’re not part of anything at all? You can pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, perhaps because you want to hurt me and dominate me, but the fact is I come bearing gifts. The purpose is to bring you to the Christ that is in you and that is you. That’s what the gift of love is all about. It’s really very simple?’
I listened to this speech, trying not to gape. The fact was that he was so earnest and harmless, he looked so crushed, and he was speaking such nonsense that I felt genuinely sorry for him.
‘Look,’ I said, as pleasantly as I could. ‘What is it you want exactly?’
‘I want you to open yourself up to . . .’
‘Yes, yes. But what do you actually want from me? Or with me.’
This was difficult for him. He squirmed inside his clothes, and looked at the thing on his shoulder, before saying, ‘I want to see you?’
‘And do what exactly?’
‘Talk . . . get to know each other.’
‘Just talk? Nothing else?’
He wouldn’t answer or look at me.
I said, ‘You keep using the word love. Are we talking about sex? Is that what you want?’
He seemed to think this was unfair. The whining note was back in his voice. ‘You know very well we can’t talk about it like this. I’ve already told you, my feelings are not important. There’s a purpose you can’t be expected to know at this stage.’
He said more along these lines, but I was only half listening. How extraordinary it was, to be standing on my own street in my coat, this cold Tuesday morning in May, talking to a stranger in terms more appropriate to an affair, or a marriage on the rocks. It was as if I had fallen through a crack in my own existence, down into another life, another set of sexual preferences, another past history and future. I had fallen into a life in which another man could be saying to me, We can’t talk about it like this, and My own feelings are not important. What also amazed me was how easy it was not to say, Who the fuck are you? hat are you talking about? The language Parry was using set off responses in me, old emotional sub-routines. It took an act of will to dismiss the sense that I owed this man, that I was being unreasonable in holding something back. In part, I was playing along with this domestic drama, even though our household was no more than this turd-strewn pavement.
I also wondered if I was going to need help. Parry knew where I lived, but I knew nothing about him. I interrupted him and said, ‘You’d better give me your address.’ It was a remark he was bound to misinterpret. He took a card from his pocket which had his name printed on it, and an address in Frognal Lane, Hampstead. I put the card in my wallet and set off at a quick pace. I had seen another taxi turning towards us. I still felt sorry for Parry in a way, but it was clear that talking to him was not going to help. He was hurrying at my side.
‘Where are you going now?’ He was like a curious child.
‘Please don’t bother me again,’ I said as I raised my arm for the cab.
‘I know what your real feelings are. And if this is some kind of test, it’s completely unnecessary. I’d never let you down.’
The taxi stopped and I opened the door, feeling slightly mad. I went to pull it shut and discovered that Parry had hold of it. He wasn’t trying to get in, but he did have one last thing to say.
‘I know your problem,’ he leaned in and confided over the diesel’s throb. ‘It’s because you’re so kind. But Joe, the pain has to be faced. The only way is for the three of us to talk.’
I had decided to say nothing more to him, but I couldn’t help myself. ‘Three?’
‘Clarissa. It’s best to deal with this head-on . . .’
I didn’t let him finish. ‘Drive on,’ I said to the cabbie, and I used two hands to wrench the door from Parry’s grasp.
As we pulled away I looked back. He was standing in the road, waving to me forlornly but looking, without question, like a man blessed in love.
 

我抽出胳膊,停了下来。“我不知道你是谁,也不清楚你想要什么,我不在乎。现在你让我独自待会儿好吗?”

    他突然满腹怨恨。“太滑稽了,”他说,“你甚至懒得说服我。这实在是太侮辱人了嘛。”

    他把手搭在屁股上,我第一次发觉自己在估量他,看他能有多大能耐。我的块头比他大,平时还在坚持锻炼身体,但我一生中还从未和其他人交过手。况且,他比我年轻二十岁,关节粗大,如果打起来他还会孤注一掷——不管那是出于什么理由。我挺直腰板,使自己看上去更高大一些。

    “我从未想过要侮辱你,”我说,“直到现在都是。”

    帕里将双手从屁股上放下来,向前摊开。他那丰富的情感状态及它们之间的迅速转换,实在让我感到头疼。理智,眼泪,绝望,含糊的威胁——而现在,又是诚挚的恳求。“乔,求你了,看着我,想起我是谁,想起一开始是什么感动了你。”

    他和我对视了一秒,眼白格外澄澈,然后移开目光。我开始明白了,这是他与人谈话时的习惯。他先吸引你的目光,然后转过头,仿佛在和他身旁的人、或是一只栖 在他肩头的隐形生物说话。“不要否认我们的关系,”他对那生物说,“不要否认我们曾经的拥有。请不要再敷衍我了。我知道,你会觉得这种想法难以接受,你还 会奋力抗拒,但我们是为了同一个目的才走到一起的呀。”

    我本应该继续向前走,但他那激烈的口气让我顿了一下。出于好奇,我反问他:“目的?”

    “就在他摔下来以后,在那座山顶上,有某种东西在我们之间传递。纯粹的能量,纯粹的光明?”帕里又开始活跃起来,将短暂的痛苦抛在身后,这样一来,疑问似的变音又回到了他的话语中。他接着说:“我爱你,你也爱我,这是事实,但它并不重要。它只是一种手段……”

    手段?

    看到我皱起的眉头,他就像给傻子解释显见的道理:“通过爱,将你引向上帝。你会像发疯似的抗拒它,因为你离自己内心的真情实感还是如此遥远?但我知道,圣 主基督就在你的心里。在某种程度上,你也知道这一点。这就是为什么你要运用你的知识、理智、逻辑来抗拒它,并用你这种超然的、仿佛一切都与己无关的方式说 话的原因?你可以装作不知道我在说些什么,也许是因为你想伤害我、支配我,可事实上,我是带着礼物来的。那个目的,就是将你引向圣主基督,他就在你的心 里,他就是你本人。那就是爱的礼物的真正含义。这真的很简单?”

    听着他的这番宏论,我竭力不张口结舌。事实上,他心地那么虔诚无害,显得如此颓唐沮丧,满口又是如此胡话连连,我真的为他感到悲哀啊。

    “瞧,”我尽可能和蔼可亲地说,“你究竟想要什么?”

    “我希望你能敞开心扉,向……”

    “是的,是的。但你究竟想从我这里得到什么呢?或者说,你想找我做什么?”

    这个问题难住了他。他在衣服下面不安地扭动着身体,然后又看了看他肩膀上的东西,说:“我想见你?”

    “然后到底要做什么?”

    “聊聊天……彼此了解。”

    “只是聊天?没别的了?”

    他既不回答,也没看我。

    我问他:“你总是提到‘爱’这个字。你是指性吗?你想要的是不是这个?”

    他似乎认为这不公平,说话时又带上了哀鸣的腔调:“你很清楚,这事儿我们不能这样子谈。我已经告诉你了,我的感觉并不重要。我们有一个目的,我不指望你现在就弄懂。”

    随后他又讲了很多诸如此类的话,但我只是三心二意地听着。真是不同寻常啊:在五月里一个冷飕飕的早上,我穿着外套,站在自家楼下的大街上和一个陌生人聊 天,而所谈及的内容更适合于恋爱或者婚姻触礁的场合。我仿佛落进了自身的裂缝中,陷入了另一种生活、另一种性取向、另一份过去和未来。我进入了新的生活 中,在这里,另一个男人可以对我说:这事儿我们不能这样子谈,我的感觉并不重要。此外,像你他妈的到底是谁啊?你在说什么呢?这样的话,我很容易便管住了 自己的嘴,没有说出口,这让我也感到惊讶。帕里的话激起了我的反应,那是我心中旧有情感的子程序。我需要调用自己的意志力,才能消除这一感觉:我欠这个男 人,我对他有所隐瞒是不讲道理啊。在一定程度上,我也在这出家庭情景剧中配合演出,即使我们的舞台仅仅是一条满地狗屎粒的人行道。

    另外,我还在考虑自己是否需要帮助。帕里知道我的住处,而我对他却一无所知。我打断了他的话头,说:“你最好把你的地址给我。”这句话肯定会引起他的误 解。他从兜里掏出一张名片,上面印着他的姓名,还有一处地址,在汉普斯特区的霍格劳巷汉普斯特(Hampstead)位于伦敦市西北部卡姆登区内,距查林 十字车站四英里,霍格劳巷(Frognal Lane)位于其中,在汉普斯特和西汉普斯特之间。。我把名片放进钱包里,快步走开。刚才我已经看到另一辆出租车正掉头朝我们开来。在某种程度上,我仍然 可怜帕里,但很明显,继续和他谈下去也没什么帮助。他急切地赶到我身边。

    “你现在要去哪儿?”他像个好奇的孩子似的问道。

    “请不要再烦我了。”我边说边向出租车招手。

    “我知道你真实的感情。如果从某种意义上来说,这是一场考验,那你完全没有必要这么做。我永远不会让你失望的。”

    出租车停下了,我打开车门,感觉有点狂乱。我正要关车门,却发现帕里正把着它。他并不想进来,不过他的确还有事要对我说。

    “我知道你的困扰,”他探身进来,靠在震动的柴油发动机上,“因为你太善良了。但是,乔,痛苦是不得不去面对的。唯一的解决方法就是我们三个谈一谈。”

    我本来决定不再和他多说,可又忍不住问:“三个?”

    “克拉莉莎。解决这个问题最好直截了当……”

    我没有让他说完。“开车。”我对司机说,然后双手并用,猛地关上了牢牢抓在帕里手中的车门。

    车开动了,我回头望去,看见他站在马路当中,孤苦伶仃地朝我挥手。但从他脸上的表情看,毫无疑问,他就像一个正沐浴在爱河中的幸福男人。



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