hmm

这是我连续第五年不在国内过春节了

—特别惦记爸爸妈妈。

妹妹和我的课程表很和谐, 能够一趟飞机回来: 纽约飞往北京的CA 982。

CA 982....有些数字组合或者编号 因为生活的种种轨迹 会不知不觉 变得非常亲切。

不光亲切, 还开始牵带回忆, 就像一段初中时很红的歌曲旋律。 或者一个很久没有人叫过的自己的昵称。

就像 CA 981/982/983 我这两年都乘过了, 导致我现在看到这样的数字串,会立刻想起庞大的肯尼迪机场 (还有国航无人能逃的:"鸡肉饭鱼肉饭?"空中一问)。就像 298 这样的三位数, 让我马上回想到住在香港清水湾时 常常坐到沙田的那路双层大巴。还有科大电梯里的 LG5、LG7 等按钮, 至今也没有遇到其他地方的建筑物需要如此的楼层字样。也就像 2A 可以把我"带回"牛津镇, 那顺着 Banbury 大道把我载到市中心的蓝色公车。就像那辆卡尔加里的暖黄校巴, 无数次地把我在写着 "#33" 的门排前放下。就像 26H,  1-3-5-1, 133 等 更是在我脑子里和不同的北京地段的相关回忆分不开。就像多年以后, R3 想必也会让我马上想起 Swarthmore 玩具般的迷你校园火车站、费城墙面花花的 Market East 站台……

门牌号 车牌号 学号 航班号 电话号 教室号 班级号 邮编 产品型号 哪年哪月哪号..

一系列的辗转 总顺带着一系列更换的编号。 其中有一些 却会一直留下。

* * *

12.20 一清早 我们即将长途跋涉, 妹妹很chill

12.20  JFK 窗外的景 

纽约前一天下了大雪。

机场地面全结了冰,人都在飞机上坐安稳了, 行李车们却迟迟不敢开过来。

(也就是为什么源儿隔了一天坐的同一个航班, 比我和妹妹的准时多了: ) )

* * *

昨天妹妹、欢欢、乐乐和我

几个人从下午的后海和南锣鼓巷 最后玩儿到了晚上的北大咖啡馆。

 这玩艺儿昨天第一次尝试。可好玩儿了。

只是我和妹妹实在划不过欢欢乐乐, 雪球之战和撞车策略方面有点占下风: )

 后海还有诺大诺白的棉花糖 O_o

之前真没见过这么像一团胖云的

 水母出没

北大某栋男生宿舍楼..

欢欢说他们那没阳台, 所有人只能把衣服"晾"在楼道里。弄得整个楼都阴阴潮潮的, 而且过客还可以在长短不一的群衣之中穿梭, 再加上足足的暖气, 很有点热带雨林的气氛呢。

* * *

前天刚发现 呵呵修喷泉的装扮很有型。

* * *

p.s. BB 你不在这我太不习惯了 w_W

Walter Benjamin,  1892-1940

一个想法很独特、有生之年却一直不被学术界接受的犹太思想家

The Work of Art in the Age of ‘theanyspacewhatever’

   The New York Guggenheim Museum is currently home to an exhibition entitled theanyspacewhatever, the collaborative effort of ten loosely affiliated contemporary artists. The idiosyncratic exhibition as a whole has attracted much comment, with Carsten Höller’s Revolving Hotel Room enjoying an especial monopoly on media attention. While Höller’s piece is on view in a more conventional fashion during the day, by night the artistic installation becomes a fully operative ‘room’ in which visitors (who place bookings in advance and pay a fee like they would at any other hotel) literally stay the night at the Guggenheim. I couldn’t help thinking of this peculiar exhibit when reading Walter Benjamin’s The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, for his essay provides an intriguing lens through which to grapple with such a show, and such an artwork; Benjamin’s piece is at its most riveting when depicting major shifts in the style of the production of art, the viewer’s relationship to it, and the very “mode of human sense perception.”

   Firstly, the question of why Revolving Hotel Room has garnered such attention is an interesting one to consider alongside Benjamin’s essay. The installation, according to the Guggenheim’s official website, consists of three “outfitted, superimposed turning glass discs mounted onto a fourth disc that all turn harmoniously at a very slow speed.” Upon these glass discs are placed pieces of furniture (a bed, a table, two chairs etc), intended to constitute the trappings of a simple hotel room. Ironically devoid of any walls (which are usually what define a room), the piece thus indirectly appropriates the walls of the exhibition as its own, whilst the pieces of furniture, other than having sleekly pared silhouettes, are not of exceptional note and would hardly excite a media frenzy. Surely, then, it is not the objects in themselves which demand such reverence or attention here: for the most part, one would not think it the least interesting or disturbing if you remarked that last night you had slept on a bed. The shock value of the piece —what immediately disturbs or delights, depending on your inclination— is that actual members of the public can sleep on an artwork. (It’s not just any old bed, though it looks just like one). And what’s more, in a museum! (A highly esteemed one at that). This bed, and these hotel-room-objects, are notable, therefore, simply because they are in a museum and thus positioned as artwork. Not to mention, one is not ‘supposed’ to sleep on artworks, or in museums…This is undoubtedly the most common gut reaction to Revolving Hotel Room of the average museumgoer, used to roped-off sections, maintaining a respectful distance from the art on display, and being shooed out of the museum come closing time. 

     All this irresistibly brings to mind Benjamin’s concept of the ‘aura’ of an artwork. One of the central concepts in this essay is his idea of the aura, and how technological developments, namely mechanical reproduction, affect it. Like the word itself as understood in everyday contexts (the authoritative ‘aura’ of a person, for example), the term as Benjamin uses it is hazy and vague, lacking in definition. However, one has at least a clear sense that this ‘aura’ is inextricably connected to the singularity of an artwork: its unique “presence in time and space”, its “unique existence at the place where it happens to be”. In other words, artworks of yore (pre-mechanical reproducibility) were each handcrafted at some particular point in the weave of time and space. For Benjamin, the aura also involves a “unique phenomenon of a distance” that imbues the work with a ritualistic significance and authority — thus distant “however close it may be."  In this way technology, such as the ability to mechanically reproduce ‘copies’ of artworks, causes the aura to “wither”, effectively substituting “a plurality of copies for a unique existence”, whittling the authority and ritualistic aura of artworks by making them “meet the beholder halfway”, such as a photograph or a phonograph record being made available for enjoyment in the convenience of one’s own drawing room. With this particular piece then, it is possible to see Höller as intentionally heightening the viewer’s experience of this ‘ritual value’ of the artwork, i.e. its ‘aura’ (a bed in a museum is no longer ‘merely’ a bed; it attains additional significance through the cultural authority of the museum); then pointedly shattering the aura by setting up the piece so that people can literally live in it, use it, and moreover ‘trespass’ a traditionally hallowed space during hours of the day that usually render it off-limits. Benjamin’s wording helps sum up the processes at work here beautifully, for does this piece not result in a kind of “shattering of tradition”, a sort of “liquidation of the traditional value of the cultural heritage”? At the same time however, the very splash that Revolving Hotel Room has made seems to hint on one level that, even well into the age of mechanical reproducibility, the aura of the artwork is still alive and thriving. Why else would this installation of a tiny (and otherwise ordinary) hotel room be so attention-grabbing? Why else would people perceive pleasure and novelty to be had in the ‘consumption’ of the piece? For Höller to be able to fracture it, there has to be a ‘palpable’ aura in the first place. It seems, then, that more is at stake in the aura of artwork than its manner of production.

     Benjamin is also surprisingly relevant to this contemporary art show when he reflects on the destruction of the aura as a result of the “desire of the contemporary masses to bring things ‘closer’ spatially and humanly.” What artwork could be pulled closer to oneself, and be more intimate, than a bed that one sleeps in? And this mass desire for closeness, as can be seen from the piece’s financial success, is very much at work. In fact, the official Guggenheim theanyspacewhatever webpage is headlined with “SOLD OUT”, itself subtitled by the distinctly advertising pitch-esque: “Take part in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to spend the night in one of the worlds’ most distinguished museums.” Further research reveals that “rates range from $259 (student rate on Monday evenings) to $799 on holiday weekends.” In the terms of Benjamin’s essay, then, the cult value of the artwork has been noticeably displaced here by its exhibition value. At first, he notes, for cult objects “what mattered was their existence, not their being on view”. Then, shaped by modern technologies, artworks underwent a “qualitative transformation of its nature” wherein the “absolute emphasis” shifts towards an artwork’s ‘exhibition value’, i.e. what Bertolt Brecht describes as the transforming of the work into a commodity. This dynamic is blatantly at play in theanyspacewhatever. Not only is the ‘hotel room’ fully booked through to the end of the exhibition, the exhibit as a whole is sponsored none too discreetly by ‘HUGO BOSS’ (proclaimed by the sleek lettering on the official website), while the amenity products for overnight stay are provided by ‘(MALIN+GOETZ)’ and the ‘hotel champagne’ by ‘Pommery’. Just as Benjamin laments the actor becoming a wholly commodified presence in the age of technologies, has the artwork become a wholly commodified thing here? Especially in such a case, where designer labels and corporations collaborate as much as artists do on the making of a piece, how can Revolving Hotel Room as performed and experienced possibly retain a sense of any “integral whole”? But most problematic about this piece are the steep prices: the ‘student rate’ of $259 for a night, for example, is exorbitant for the vast majority of students. Meanwhile, the briskly sold-out nature of the exhibit demonstrates that these high prices have nevertheless not detracted from the ‘desire’ of the masses to be (/buy) part of this experience. They do however lead one to question the motives and intentions involved. If the intention of the artwork is to open up and reshape the relationships between viewers and ‘museums’ and ‘art’, then why is it so pointedly limited to a certain income level or social background? This surely further alienates certain museum-goers than even before: newly aware of such extensions of exhibition space, these viewers surely are also made aware that, because of the exclusiveness and expensiveness of it at all, they are excluded. And if exploring and re-shaping such art-viewer relationships is not the point of the artwork, then what are the motives of the Guggenheim curators, and the artist? And what are the intentions and desires of those who do land a coveted overnight stay in Revolving Hotel Room, those members of the “contemporary masses” that desire that closeness of things?

    Just as Benjamin expresses concern at the commoditization and alienation that results from new technologies, yet is very excited about these technologies’ emancipating potential (“to burst this prison-world asunder”), the Guggenheim art show is replete with possibilities despite such questions. The title of the show itself comes from the “any-space-whatever”, a term coined by Gilles Deleuze (who appropriated it in turn from his compatriot Pascal Auge). The Deleuzian ‘any-space-whatever’ is a “perfectly singular space, which has merely lost its homogeneity…so that the linkages can be made in an infinite number of ways”, a space of “virtual conjunction, grasped as pure locus of the possible” (Cinema 1).  Like ‘aura’, however, the concept is not clearly defined and carries differing shades of connotation. For participating artist Liam Gillick (who suggested the title), the anyspacewhatever is the “part of a narrative that will do to keep things moving”, like a random cinematic shot “so fleeting and innocuous that it doesn't disturb the flow." Thus the exhibit has been arranged and curated with this vision in mind: winding spaces, unexpected lettering around corners that suddenly appear and then disappear when you move on, and the harnessing of technology for a ‘flow’ that is nevertheless composed of ‘fleeting and innocuous’ shots, such as the winking LED stars in Angela Bulloch’s participating piece Firmamental Night Sky: Oculus 12.  Thus the viewer’s perception itself becomes part of the experience of the artwork and the exhibit, making it a fundamentally perspectival engagement, with each individual’s own apperception and ‘linkages’. Benjamin’s discussion of the “new mode of participation” similarly emphasizes the role of the spectator in this promising era of de-ritualized art: the viewer is no longer subordinate to the artwork, but is rather put “in the position of the critic” as an “examiner”.  Even the ‘distractedness’ of a modern viewer, Benjamin suggests, can be a powerful thing, for most things in everyday life are perceived far more through habit and “unconscious optics” than active, conscious contemplation and concentration. The viewer is therefore accorded much more agency by Benjamin, who stresses that new technologies will exploit but also encourage the flowering of such agency; and questions the commonplace that “art demands concentration”, thus the general masses are somehow unworthy of appreciating it. Particularly in the case of the Revolving Hotel Room, the viewer in fact goes so far as to engage in a direct and “tactile appropriation” of the artwork. The implications of such forms of engagement are highlighted by the fact that ‘viewer’ is much too limpid a term for what takes place.

    Perhaps, in the future, viewers/spectators will no longer be called as such, but will be conceived of as ‘experiencers’, or similarly broader and more active terms. Contemporary art exhibits such as theanyspacewhatever are exploring daring, groundbreaking new ways for people to interact with art; while these processes and forms of interaction benefit from the analytical lens of Benjamin’s concept of the ‘aura’ and new conceptions of the ‘spectator’s’ relationship to art. Similarly, Benjamin’s concerns also apply: what kinds of directions are these potentially emancipating possibilities actually taking? At least on one level, as Revolving Hotel Room shows, there is the danger of reducing the art object into a ‘commodity fetish’, both more and less than what it should be. These are but a few of the concerns worth raising, and the possibilities to excite, any ‘experiencer’ of art, however 'distracted'.
 

--------------------------------------------------
Works cited (last accessed: Nov 15, 08):
http://www.guggenheim.org/new-york/exhibitions/on-view-now/anyspace/revolving-hotel-room
http://gothamist.com/2008/10/15/revolving_hotel_room_lets_you_sleep.php
http://www.horschamp.qc.ca/9903/offscreen_essays/deleuze1.html
http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/10/28/arts/light.php?page=1
and The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproducibility, Walter Benjamin.

----------------------------------------
A couple of interesting places to visit:
Jerry Saltz Spends a Night in the Guggenheim
http://nymag.com/arts/art/features/51998/
New York Magazine feature-writer talks about a "one-night stand" with the Guggenheim.

Has an excellent video of the exhibition,starting with Angela Bulloch's piece Firmamental Night Sky: Oculus 12
http://vernissage.tv/blog/tag/angela-bulloch/

--------------------------

One last Hmmm...

I wonder：本雅明的"aura"这个概念是怎么翻译成中文的呢? "气质"? 光晕? 灵气?……

  喜欢它们很久了, 但是一直没能找到比较清晰的版本。

  因为 Google 的 LIFE 摄影档案的电子化工程, 可以在这里 找到它们了。 

 一群 1963 年在巴黎的公园里看木偶剧的孩子们,

木偶剧中故事最紧张的那刹那 摄影大师 Alfred Eisenstaedt 把他们拍下来了。

this has to be one of my favourite photographs of all time.. 

: )

简直忙得不像话了..

所有的东西都一起来凑热闹了: 国际学生会的事 [Faculty Dinner]、 Writing Associate 的事 [工作小时大增]、羽毛球的事 [比赛频繁]、当然还有永远挥之不去的众多作业任务....[presentations! papers! readings!]  O_o

哈哈幸亏没有男朋友,不然按照生活奇妙的幽默感, 他铁定也是这个星期提出个分手之类的 :D

幸亏要忙的事情还都比较有意思。

幸亏校园还是很美的。

 

sporadic phone conversations with BB are one of the anchors of my life..

they're also doodle-inspiring ; )

*    *    *

最近在翻译几首现代中文诗歌。

真是一个又快乐又让人抓狂的过程.............

非常需要和欢迎任何建议。

也当然欢迎推荐其它的现当代诗人/作家的作品, 尤其是缺乏英文版本的。

[诗歌原作的版权自然属于它们各自的作者]

note: all the English translations below are original work,

and any suggestions for improvement/collaboration are fervently welcome : )
--------------

(一)《我总觉得》顾城
I’ve always felt    Gu Cheng

(二)《空间》 北岛
Space    Bei Dao

(三)《这是四点零八分的北京》食指
this is Beijing at four oh eight    Shizhi

(四)《烦忧》戴望舒
Melancholy    Dai Wangshu

(五)《如雾起时》郑愁予
As When Fog Rises    Zheng Chouyu

(六)《从这里开始》江河
let’s begin here    Jiang He
 
----------------

 
〖我总觉得〗
  顾城

我总觉得
　　星星曾生长在一起,
　　像一串绿葡萄,
　　因为天体的转动,
　　滚落到四方。
我总觉得
　　人类曾聚集在一起,
　　像一碟小彩豆,
　　因为陆地的破裂,
　　迸溅到各方。
我总觉得
　　心灵曾依恋在一起,
　　像一窝野蜜蜂,
　　因为生活的风暴,
　　飞散在远方。
                   一九八O年六月
 
 
I’ve always felt

Gu Cheng

I’ve always felt
        The stars once grew and lived together,
        Like a string of green grapes,
        Then from the swivelling of the spheres,
        Tumbled all about.

I’ve always felt
       Humans once bunched together,
       Like a dish of colourful little beans,
       Then from the splitting of the earth,
       Scattered over every bit of it.

I’ve always felt
       Minds were once tied to one another,
       Like a family of wild bumblebees,
       Then from the storms of everyday life,
       Flew far apart.
                                                 June 1980
 
 

北岛, 1949-

〖空间〗
北岛

孩子们围坐在
环行山谷上
不知道下面是什么
纪念碑
在一座城市的广场
黑雨
街道空荡荡
下水道通向另一座
城市
我们围坐在
熄灭的火炉旁
不知道上面是什么

 Space  
         Bei Dao

children sit in a circle atop
a ringlike mountain valley
not knowing what is below

a memorial
in a city square
black rain
the streets empty echoes
the sewers leading to another
city

we sit in a circle
beside a snuffed out stove
not knowing what is above


       

食指,1948-

〖这是四点零八分的北京〗
食指

这是四点零八分的北京，
一片手的海洋翻动；
这是四点零八分的北京，
一声雄伟的汽笛长鸣。

北京车站高大的建筑，
突然一阵剧烈的抖动。
我双眼吃惊地望着窗外，
不知发生了什么事情。

我的心骤然一阵疼痛，一定是
妈妈缀扣子的针线穿透了心胸。
这时，我的心变成了一只风筝，
风筝的线绳就在妈妈手中。

线绳绷得太紧了，就要扯断了，
我不得不把头探出车厢的窗棂。
直到这时，直到这时候，
我才明白发生了什么事情。

——一阵阵告别的声浪，就要卷走车站；
北京在我的脚下，
已经缓缓地移动。

我再次向北京挥动手臂，
想一把抓住他的衣领，
然后对她大声地叫喊∶
永远记着我，妈妈啊，北京！

终于抓住了什么东西，
管他是谁的手，不能松，
因为这是我的北京，
这是我的最后的北京。
 
this is Beijing at four oh eight

Shizhi

this is Beijing at four oh eight,
an ocean patch of hands undulating;
this is Beijing at four oh eight,
a majestic burst of car horns clamouring.

Beijing Station this towering structure,
suddenly a set of violent shakes.
my two startled eyes look out the window,
not knowing what thing has taken place.

my heart an abrupt spasm of pain, surely I’m right
it’s mama’s button-thread needling the heart.
and now, my heart becomes a kite,
the string of the kite is in mama’s hand.

the string’s pulled too taut, soon it’ll break,
out the carriage window I must stick my face.
only now, only until now,
do I finally understand what has taken place.

——set upon set of waves of goodbye, soon they’ll sweep the station away;
Beijing is right beneath my feet,
beginning its motion bit by bit.

once more I wave my arms at Beijing,
trying to clutch hold of its collar,
and to holler at her afterwards:
think of me always, oh mama, Beijing!

at last I grab onto something or other,
who cares whose hand, can’t loosen my grip,
for this is my Beijing,
this is the last of my Beijing.

戴望舒,1905-50
 

〖烦忧〗
  戴望舒

说是寂寞的秋的清愁，
说是辽远的海的相思。
假如有人问我的烦忧
我不敢说出你的名字。

我不敢说出你的名字，
假如有人问我的烦忧∶
说是辽远的海的相思，
说是寂寞的秋的清愁。

 
Melancholy
Dai Wangshu

Said to be the lonesome fall’s faint fretting,
Said to be the faraway sea’s pining plaint.
If someone were to ask me my melancholy
I dare not speak your name.

I dare not speak your name,
If someone were to ask me my melancholy;
Said to be the faraway sea’s pining plaint,
Said to be the lonesome fall’s faint fretting.



郑愁予, 1933-

 

〖如雾起时〗
郑愁予

我从海上来，带回航海的二十二颗星
你问我航海的事儿，我仰天笑了……
如雾起时，
敲叮叮的耳环在浓密的发丛找航路;
用最细最细的嘘息，吹开睫毛引灯塔的光

赤道是一痕润红的线，你笑时不见
子午线是一串暗蓝的珍珠
当你思念时即为时间的分隔而滴落

我从海上来，你有海上的珍奇太多了……
迎人的编贝，嗔人的晚云
和使我不敢轻易近航的珊瑚的礁区

As When Fog Rises

 江河,1949-

 〖从这里开始〗
  江河

就从这里开始
从我个人的历史开始，从亿万个
死去的活着的普通人的愿望开始
从诞生之前就通过我
激动的呼出的名字开始
把被遗忘的
被迫害的
隔阂着的
人们
从蜷缩、恐惧、麻木中展开
舒展各自的生活和权利
破碎的冰块、语言开始和解
每一个朴素的名字都是诗的标题
流出浩大的生命的旋律
就从这里开始，血液
激动着每一个人
每一朵花的香味每个孩子一缕缕炊烟
一同升向春天，棵棵棕色的小树摇动
枝叶和枝叶连在一起
缀着成熟的果子比母亲的乳房还要丰满
大团大团的云挂在空中
胸中热情积郁着越来越浓
每一次接触和闪电每一片嘴唇和吻
都把我从孤独中解放融进另一个人
融进所有跳动的心
爱情不能存留，大地饥渴
就从雨开始从溢满的河流开始
从石头的桥钢铁的桥开始
手臂从土地伸向土地从山腰伸向山腰
挽着所有的兄弟姐妹
沟通所有的峡谷河床
黑夜压弯的月亮不再象父亲的脊背
弯弯的谷穗象饱满的弓握在儿子们手中
鱼和鸟激起浪花，风
足够吹起帆张开网
公路铺遍荒野山岗
城市象一个又一个结
拉开网，晒满阳光的条条道路微微颤动
渠道中街道中流动的水和人群
永远蔚蓝
让我在繁忙中整理出秩序
如同群蜂整理蜜整理住所
让光划出影子和光明的界限
让影子渐渐透明在中午消失
我的那些苦闷沉默艰难的年代
消失在欢笑中
我，金黄皮肤的人
和世界上所有不同肤色的人连成一片
把光的颜色铺遍生活

 
let’s begin here
Jiang He

let’s begin right here
from my individual history, from millions of thousands of
the dreams of dead and living and everyday people, let’s begin
from the name that was called and excited through me
even before birth, let’s begin
let those who have been forgotten
been persecuted
segregated
people
open out from their huddles, fear, numbness
each unfolding their lives and rights
smashed shards of ice, language begins to mend
each and every simple name is the title of a poem
gushing out vast vital melodies
let’s begin right here, blood
stimulating each and every human
every flower’s fragrance every child wisp upon wisp of chimney smoke
rising in unison towards spring, trunk upon brown trunk of small trees swaying
branches leaves leaves branches interlinked
strewn with ripe fruits fuller than even mother’s breasts
big bunches of cloud hang in the sky
in the heart enthusiasm mounts denser and denser
each interaction and lightning flash each patch of lip each kiss
all free me from loneliness melt me into another person
melt into all beating hearts
love cannot be stored, for the earth starves
right here from rain let’s begin from overflowing rivers let’s begin
from stone bridges steel bridges let’s begin
arms stretch out from the earth to the earth stretch out from mountain waist to mountain waist
clasping all brothers and sisters
communicating all valleys and riverbeds
the black night bends the moon no longer like father’s spine
curved grains are like full bows grasped in the hands of sons
fishes and birds stir up foam, the wind
enough to blow up the sails open out the nets
highways spread over wildernesses over remote mountains
cities like one knot after another knot
draw open the net, strips and strips of sunlit paths slightly quivering
in channels in streets flowing water and crowds
eternally bright blue
let me sort out order from the flurry
just as bee swarms sort their honey and their living quarters
let light mark out the lines between shadows and brightness
let the shadows grow transparent little by little into the noon they disappear
those depressing silent difficult times of mine
disappear in mirth
I, one of golden yellow skin
with people of all different shades link into one piece
and we spread the colours of light across our living

  <我总觉得>

顾城

我总觉得，
　　星星曾生长在一起，
　　像一串绿葡萄，
　　因为天体的转动，
　　滚落到四方。

　　我总觉得，
　　人类曾聚集在一起，
　　像一碟小彩豆，
　　因为陆地的破裂，
　　迸溅到各方。

　　我总觉得，
　　心灵曾依恋在一起，
　　像一窝野蜜蜂，
　　因为生活的风暴，
　　飞散在远方。