"Anyone who cannot come to terms with his life while he is alive needs on hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate—he has little success in this—but with the other hand he can note down what he sees among the ruins, for he sees different (and more) things than do the others; after all, dead as he is in his own lifetime, he is the real survivor. This assumes that he does not need both hands, or more hands than he has, in his struggle against despair."--Kafka



Sunday, September 19, 2010

重蹈覆轍

那一年他打電話給我,說我爺爺去世了,爺爺是我至愛的親人。他從外地回港,那年有世界盃,我們坐在朋友客廳看球賽,沒有朋友知他回來幹麼,而我沒有去靈堂。他始終沒說什麼。說到底,愚笨的我連我是否應該去靈堂也不知道。
我知我沒良心。
今年她爸爸入院,病危,我給她打短訊,始終我沒去醫院,愚笨的我連是否應該去醫院也不知道,爸爸惦念女兒沒有理,而我卻沒有出現過。唯一進步是我會去靈堂。
重蹈覆轍的錯誤,沒有適時有良心,內疚也是意料中事了。

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