詩之夜。聽到她讀詩，暗裡靜靜的爆發，一聽就驚艷。

http://www.3ammagazine.com/3am/eight-poems-aase-berg/

真空煮食

在所有朋友都離棄多崎作以後，他交上的第一個朋友是一個無法製作有形事物，只「喜歡在腦子裡把東西拿來作抽象性思考」的人。但他說他喜歡做菜，「所謂做菜是從做的開始就一步一步在消除形這東西了……。」讀書讀到此就想起，那些喜歡又擅於做菜的朋友。感到他們都是富於創造力，能夠將生活的善意化形成具體顏色與香氣的人。如做菜也可以理解為一種毁形的，製造「真空」過程。我也就能夠理解，為何連讀食譜也不太有耐性，如何努力也不擅於造形的自己，會在一次又一次災難似的廚房裡得到無窮快感。

艱難

半夜裡醒來。他人的話語重複播放，但更多的，是自我防備，像盾的東西。是那個東西向內使我僵硬。那是否幾乎就像過於執著的語言，要把自己一層一層的包裹起來，那些缺漏。語言的破開和遮蔽。如果我無法自救，我是否還是能教下去？而我從來不相信“教”。那只是一種比較容易的關係。從起始便不平等的關係，卻讓我稍稍安心一點。

K

肌肉疲累的黄昏，側身倒在床上，輕易地就夢著了。居然是他，以他從未有過的瘦黑的臉和身體，穿他永遠不會穿的寶藍色夏威夷裇。我們在一個房間裡埋頭工作，他和C則在那個我花了兩天清掃灰塵的客廳裡。“怎麼我們讓他們一直待在那裡？”漸漸，我聽到他和C談笑的聲音。我在夢裡的喜悅穿過了我應有的禮貎，便走過去摸著他的手（那隻我從未捉摸過的手），說：“你沒有變得太瘦”。他皺眉，彷彿我說了不該說的話。

醒來，我想起我們曾經有過的，最近的距離。那次你說：“一起到美國來吧。”我一貫地反應遲緩。後來，我第一次到美國，想要跨越國境去看已經埋在泥土裡你，但終於沒有成功。在時空錯亂的距離裡，手的觸感猶在，我無法分辨這太近或太遠的悲傷。

乾眼

眼乾了好一段日子。醫生一個接一個看進我的眼睛裡，沒有告訴我他們看見了什麼。只是給我各種眼藥水。每天十四五個小時，世界有時裂開，我看見很多蚊子。
然後，在一個咖啡室裡，在久違的面書看到圖文，眼睛竟濕潤起來，身體抖顫，人間忽然清亮。我總是覺得有些話，不適合告訴任何人，無論是因為圖畫動人的線條，還是因為她的名字。但我知道，最少為了身體健康，啞默有時，朗聲有時。

Woman Fish

He knows his wife will never be able to tell lies again.

All night long, the weary sound of water dripping from the air conditioner, slowly eroding into coral dreams. He wakes from the sleep which bore him like an ocean, and sees the buildings outside, packed cheek to cheek. People squeeze breathlessly through the cracks in the city, looking forward to finding a Christmas tree in the shopping mall, though it's only August. One of the bulbs on its plastic branches has a burnt-out filament, a blind eye amid brilliant illuminations.

Outside the mall, the stagnant air has been beached too long – it feels as if all things have come to an end. People look up and the tight-shut, overcast sky opens its toothless mouth and spatters their faces with rain. He opens his umbrella and the raindrops pelt down on it like deafening bullets. He seals himself inside his house – the thrumming of the downpour extends to every pane of glass.

"It doesn't matter how much I wash my eyes, things still get twisted out of shape until I can't tell what they are. I can feel my brain shrinking like a dried-out sponge. Faraway things are too small to make out." His wife's complaints had been fragments of countless lies floating around in his head, fragments he hadn't been able to reassemble into a complete picture. One morning he realised his wife's sleek, pale head was completely without hair. Her mouth was huge, protruding like a ship cleaving the still waters of the sea. Her eyes had slipped to the sides of her face. Her breasts were two melting glaciers, slowly sinking into her body. When she walked naked towards him, all that was left of the woman were her smooth, muscular legs. Apart from that, she had transformed completely into a fish.(...)

translated by Nicky Harman

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2013/mar/21/woman-fish-dorothy-tse-nicky-harman-short-story