又到電影節。買了下列一堆戲飛，如有興趣一起睇戲食飯，call我。電影節所有場次不設劃位，隨時歡迎join in!

病了數天。無論是以前在學還是現在上班，基本上因病缺勤的紀錄是接近零。不是因為不會病，而是病的時間都恰巧在辦公時間以外。在學時很喜歡在暑假時病，又或在星期六星期日病；今回更厲害，回家時累得連飯也懶得吃，第二朝起床時卻又感到可以撐上班。這個世界，有些人總能在方便的時候病；而好像我這般的蠢蛋，只能怨自己賤骨頭、辛苦命。

小時候常常生病。每次生病，母親總會帶我長途跋涉的從青衣的住所往佐敦伊利沙伯醫院求醫。那時候青衣還沒有地鐵，連北橋也還未建成，舟居勞頓往往單程也要花上近兩個小時，為的只是伊院有全港唯一免費的西人西醫 (公務員英語診所) 。每次看完醫生，母親都會帶我到附近的京士柏公園玩，然後在步往地鐵站的斜路上、向路旁擺檔的小販買一個熱呼呼的燴番薯，一人一半分著吃。那條斜路，那時覺得很長、很斜，常常挨著母親要她改搭小巴。現在我每日都行著這條斜路，燴番薯仍有在擺賣，不過已經沒吃很久了。

鼠年看的第一部話劇，是英國國家劇團的『雙料娛樂』短劇〈聊天室〉、〈國民身份〉。大約是因為是英國劇團以全英語對白演出，座上九成也是外國人和他們的partner，像我這般辛苦看字幕的獨行俠似乎絕無僅有。下班較早，吃完飯才六時許，於是到銅鑼灣旭屋看書。恃著還離開場很久、便不看錶暫時忘掉時間的慢慢看書，付鈔離開時竟已是七時四十分。大踏步疾走至演藝，結果還是遲到八分鐘，要在場外看十多分鐘的電視轉播才能進場。只一個人竟也遲到的，大概全場也只有我一個人。

每回到演藝看戲，都有些彷佛是唏噓的蒼桑感。看完戲後，橫渡告示打道的行人天橋時，唏噓的感覺更是強烈。我曾在那已經關閉的小說個人網站上寫了好多年，臨終結的幾篇之一是下貼的〈小路〉。 有一直看那個網站的朋友大概會發現，有些相同的意念在不同的故事都有出現。對這些長情而細心的讀者，我衷心希望他們在看著這些相同的意念時、會感到我是進步的。〈小路〉是我環繞同一意念所寫的一堆故事中的其中一篇，而個人覺得，寫到〈小路〉時，無論在表達又或描寫方面，在劃出那意念的完成度是比較高的。

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小路  2007.3.17

離開劇場，有一條唯一的小路通往最近的地車站。小路不闊，卻不算短，緩緩提昇十來米，橫越兩條八線的高速公路。小路末端是一棟商業大廈的二樓，有一道自動電梯到達地下，在地上橫過兩條馬路，再轉個街角，就是地車站了。

我倆都是對面海的人。無數個晚上，我們都在差不多的時候，攜手一級級走上小路的階梯。我們有時候會談著剛才看過的戲，有時候會說著幾天後想看的電影。更多的時候，我們只是靜靜的牽著手，跨越足下的午夜快車。

初時，我抓著她的手很緊，緊得有時令她皺眉。我害怕。我害怕不捉得那麼緊，她就能掙脫開我，離我而去。隨著日子的過去，漸漸我習慣了她手掌的大小，習慣了她指尖，習慣了她手指與手指之間的距離。偶爾，我們會在商業大廈對面的台式飲料店裡坐下，叫一杯大杯裝的泡沫綠茶。飲料店很小，沒有甚麼旁人。我們在仿製的竹桌上交換語言、交換眼神，感情就在小小的店子裡反射、凝固。

我們很少停留在小路。窄而長的小路，只有距離，沒有景色。站在小路的最頂端，只會看見一輛輛迎面駛來的汽車，轉彎、加速，然後離開。在積滿灰塵的欄河邊，我眺望立交道上的天空：灰色的雲、灰色的蝴蝶。三月的空氣獨特而沉重。記得上年這個時候，她塗了種新的香水，我不斷的打嚏嗤。『不習慣？』「對。」我還是習慣那沉重的氣氛。她呵呵的笑著，笑容很甜。我情不自禁的將她拉進懷中，抱起她。放下她後，我咳嗽了很久，她遞上一塊手袙，敲敲我的頭。『清醒了點嗎？』「稍微吧。」然後回以一笑。

某天夜裡下著大雨，我和她都忘記帶傘子。劇場裡擺的傘子都是藝術品，昂貴極了，我們只能選擇在場內呆至雨停，又或到計程車站長長的隊列裡等候計程車。我們最後選擇了劇場。我們看著小雨點變成中雨點，又看著中雨點變成大雨點。狂風暴雨猛烈的打在大玻璃窗上，好像要穿窗而來，沾濕我們的鞋子。我們玩起跳影子的遊戲：左、右，右、左。突然，整個劇場滅了燈，玻璃窗轉化成鏡子。鏡子裡的我和她有些奇怪，不再是我們平常常看見的樣子。我們對著鏡子的我們揮手，鏡子的我們也揮手回應。我們都有些出神，凝望著鏡中的自己。窗外黑得像墨，藍白光芒交叉對閃，接近結冰的冷氣室內，彷佛有聲。

要走了。我在小路上慢慢步行，商業大廈自動電梯的入口，就在眼前。忽然袋裡的電話震動起來。我說，「喂？」是她的聲音。『是我！剛剛下班。戲怎麼樣？對了，還未吃飯吧，餓壞了嘛？一起吃飯吧…』

親戚在國外多年，今年剛好回港渡歲，上我家拜年。她在我房中看到貼著兩篇文章，一篇蘇軾的詞，一篇卡夫卡的寓言。好久沒向人解說過了，以往倒背如流的東西，竟然好像變得不太熟悉。 親戚走後，曾起意把它們換下來，但空了的位置，又放甚麼上去好呢？大概，下年她再來時，也仍然是看見這兩篇文章吧。

下面是兩篇文章之一的卡夫卡。碩士班法律學的第一課，於興中教授向每位同學派發這一篇短文《在法律前》。記得大學開放日時，我系『四大law友』之一的黃錦就教授很大聲的跟在座的預科生說：『入大學，我們教各位的不是如何遵守法律，而是如何break the law！』。我是在中六時第一次讀卡夫卡，讀的原因是在世紀末的某日偶爾扭開收音機，聽到香港電台『21世紀一百本名著』介紹卡夫卡的《審判》說得頗吸引。說起來大學畢業以後就沒再看甚麼新作家，似乎我已經過了探新好奇的時階。

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Before the Law
Franz Kafka

Before the law sits a gatekeeper.  To this gatekeeper comes a man from the country who asks to gain entry into the law.  But the gatekeeper says that he cannot grant him entry at the moment.  The man thinks about it and then asks if he will be allowed to come in later on.  “It is possible,” says the gatekeeper, “but not now.”  At the moment the gate to the law stands open, as always, and the gatekeeper walks to the side, so the man bends over in order to see through the gate into the inside.  When the gatekeeper notices that, he laughs and says: “If it tempts you so much, try it in spite of my prohibition.  But take note: I am powerful. And I am only the most lowly gatekeeper.  But from room to room stand gatekeepers, each more powerful than the other.  I can’t endure even one glimpse of the third.”  The man from the country has not expected such difficulties: the law should always be accessible for everyone, he thinks, but as he now looks more closely at the gatekeeper in his fur coat, at his large pointed nose and his long, thin, black Tartar’s beard, he decides that it would be better to wait until he gets permission to go inside.  The gatekeeper gives him a stool and allows him to sit down at the side in front of the gate.  There he sits for days and years.  He makes many attempts to be let in, and he wears the gatekeeper out with his requests.  The gatekeeper often interrogates him briefly, questioning him about his homeland and many other things, but they are indifferent questions, the kind great men put, and at the end he always tells him once more that he cannot let him inside yet.  The man, who has equipped himself with many things for his journey, spends everything, no matter how valuable, to win over the gatekeeper.  The latter takes it all but, as he does so, says, “I am taking this only so that you do not think you have failed to do anything.”  During the many years the man observes the gatekeeper almost continuously.  He forgets the other gatekeepers, and this one seems to him the only obstacle for entry into the law.  He curses the unlucky circumstance, in the first years thoughtlessly and out loud, later, as he grows old, he still mumbles to himself.  He becomes childish and, since in the long years studying the gatekeeper he has come to know the fleas in his fur collar, he even asks the fleas to help him persuade the gatekeeper.  Finally his eyesight grows weak, and he does not know whether things are really darker around him or whether his eyes are merely deceiving him.  But he recognizes now in the darkness an illumination which breaks inextinguishably out of the gateway to the law.  Now he no longer has much time to live.  Before his death he gathers in his head all his experiences of the entire time up into one question which he has not yet put to the gatekeeper.  He waves to him, since he can no longer lift up his stiffening body.  The gatekeeper has to bend way down to him, for the great difference has changed things to the disadvantage of the man. “What do you still want to know, then?” asks the gatekeeper. “You are insatiable.”  “Everyone strives after the law,” says the man, “so how is that in these many years no one except me has requested entry?”  The gatekeeper sees that the man is already dying and, in order to reach his diminishing sense of hearing, he shouts at him, “Here no one else can gain entry, since this entrance was assigned only to you.  I’m going now to close it.”