酷儿们

《酷儿们》一个人，在你对面坐下，有条不紊地整理一下衣服，故事就开始了。

他们开始诉说一些事，温柔的洒脱的，优伤的释然的，没有特效，没有粉饰，只有一双直视你的眼睛。

只能说艺高人胆大，这样的表演单薄吗？

完全不，它简单，却丰满。

一豆灯光一个长镜头几个分镜，整整二十分钟，你只能静静看着那人的独白，8集，120分钟的时间里一段百年历史就在你面前倏忽而过。

这部剧选定的是比较敏感的特定人群，但得高分与猎奇的心态并无关系，剧中每个人都生动。

故事没有从多么宏大的地方入手，而是从个体的角度展开，再慢慢晕染出大的环境。

在那些讲述里我们能体验到温度，闻到迎面飘来的各种味道，耳边有火车的汽笛声，手边能感知到挣扎的力度。

当然在这么聚焦式的表演中，演员的功力也是高下立见。

“I'd miss you,Alice.”第四集里当男主说出这句话时虽然有释怀和感动，但我也知道，他们究竟是两类人，不管时间怎么延续下去他们也不可能有牵起手的那一天。

多年的相处只是共同抵抗那些恶意时对彼此的支撑，当外部压力消散时，那股力量也消失了。

我会想念你的，但是再见，从此再也不见了吧，那些不堪的过去，也不要再对我提起。

看着Ben Whishaw从青涩的年代演着演着就有了胡须。。。

没变的是他灰蓝色眸子中深深的忧郁。

《故园风雨》中那个痴情的公子，散散地躺在湖边的草地上，说了很长的一段表白：我希望在这里埋下一罐金子，等老了的时候挖出来慢慢回忆。。。

大意如此，之间的一根烟呼吸间让之句话多了本.卫肖式的风格。

只看了两集，却知道“On the platform”一定是最精彩的。

你见过只有独白和面部表情的电影吗？

镜头一直停留在他阴郁而风霜的面部，眼神、口角以及英伦的发音的词语说出了时候的动作。

就像眼中一道流光闪过，对字幕上翻译的是流光。

跟着他缓缓的描述我们看见在金盏花和罂粟盛开的山坡上，一池湖水as clear as glass，身边躺着的Leslie是否是个暧昧的名字我不得而知，但我看到了本描述中大理石雕塑一样完美的侧脸，让人有想吻上去的冲动。。。

直到他的铁灰色眼睛里涌出泪水的那一刻，我知道并不是因为悲伤，而是认同的幸福。

也许他们再未谋面，但那又怎样呢？

那罐金子可以让他慢慢地回忆起一个阳光灿烂的午后、湖水边。。。

因题材原因，本文无法先发布在公众号。

感兴趣的童鞋可以去看看，豆瓣ID同名：Water森，一本杂志公众号。

看完8集，不同的角色去描绘queer群体的生活，非常地立体和多面。

我基于个人情感写一下我自己比较喜欢的E2,E3和E4.E2菲恩和马库斯的一夜，跟我自己的经历有些相似。

在中环的LINQ，我当时在等一个朋友。

由于酒吧里面空气很差很吵，于是我在店外坐着。

过了11点后外面的人渐渐多了起来，我没有跟谁搭讪，就在那坐着。

yeah,quiet bloke in corner.后来好像有个人慢慢靠近我，但是也没有主动说话。

借着酒意我就问他是在等人吗？

于是我们聊了一下，然后就哔哩吧啦地聊了很多，最后跟他回了公寓。

He's my first guy,a new zealand.我还没去看敦刻尔克，但是我觉得菲恩确实把十几岁男孩的娇羞，好奇与可爱诠释得很到位，我在他的自述里似乎看到了那一晚作为一个virgin的自己——犹豫，不知所措，对方很好，给自己的印象也是深刻一生的。

E3还没看之前，有张小狼的图片评论说他的表演so bad，但是我看了下截图还蛮喜欢。

我虽然并不是他的忠实fans，但也确实很喜欢他。

好不容易看到E3，觉得狼先生确实有点用力过猛了。

但是看在第二节的polo衫那么好看就先原谅他了。

直到最后一节，开口的第一句台词就hit到我了。

“两个人如果真的要在一起，确实得先坦诚相待。

”所以其实说他前面的表演太过，其实并不合适。

因为他本身饰演的就是一名演员，一名很想好好当演员的演员。

所以他在这里就是故意用他极度夸张的面部表情去表达他嬉皮笑脸下的more anger.这名演员的生活其实就是很多queer的生活缩影。

有个boring的ex，很心水的simon,bf也许经常去会所，自己是size queen,男友突然说是自己positive等等。

我在看的时候有点感觉这就是一些queer人群的一些特点，非常立体化，所以这也是我倒回去看最多的一集。

S4 很奇特的是，这集题目和背景交代的停留时间都比别的集要快上一两秒，却反而更抓住了我的注意力。

missing Alice，a good title.这是我最快进入状态的一集，当时特别精神还是怎么，但是最主要还是丽贝卡的表演。

很舒服，让你感觉很快就可以跟着她进入状态。

平铺的模式，交代了下自己，然后在教堂遇到了她的迈克尔。

结婚，无性的疑惑，发现，意外怀孕，放开观念，原谅，但是最后他还是离去了。

很平淡但我却全程在听她在叙事，仿佛她坐在我对面。

整集的连贯性最好的一集。

PS : 我真的好喜欢片头片尾曲公众号见啦，沃森！

第四集的最后的一句I'd miss you Alice之后短短一秒实在太精彩了，像是将这位同妻的矛盾的一生做成了一个微缩模型。

先是紧紧抿着的强颜欢笑的嘴角，然后是一瞬间怅然若失的眼神又很快变成如释重负般舒展开的表情。

多年的相伴让他对Michael充满依恋，但也正是因为多年相伴对丈夫的了解，其实她心里对丈夫是否会离开早有答案，但是却不愿意接受这个答案。

但当Michael真的说出”我会想你的”决定离开时，她却有种如释重负的复杂心情，我想也许是不用再活在那种Michael依然需要我的自欺欺人中的解脱吧。

文学性和电影性一样，都是不可言说只可意会，文学性不仅能浮现在文本中，也能呈现在电影里，话剧里，甚至在其他艺术形式里，文学性是与生俱来的，有就是有，没有就是没有，它是优美的文本和思考无缝融合的结晶，无论从哪个角度看，都闪烁天生的矜贵。

中国的严肃文学都没有，所有畅销书肯定没有，死掉五十年作品还依然存世的文本不一定有，还活着的作家文本，却可能有，电影里，偶尔能看到，塔可夫斯基和基斯洛夫斯基，很明显，上承旧俄文学的灵魂，伍迪艾伦，和保罗奥斯特完全一路，却远远不及，欧容，菲利普加瑞尔，劳伦·冈泰，以及百分之九十的法国文艺片，全能看得到法国文学随性，自由，高级审美，和善于思辨的本质，英国最优秀的电影，则明显还是EM福斯特，伊夫林沃的魂牵梦萦。

阅读和观看时，缺乏文学性，就像一道大菜没放盐，也像美女毫无灵魂，难以下咽，俗不可耐；生活中没有文学性，则令人倍感贫瘠。

于是书本之外，看到一部英剧，倍感惊喜，《queers》，系列剧，八集，每集20分钟，只有一个主角，一个场景，主角在场景中对镜头讲述自己的故事，仅此而已，这种极简的表演和拍摄方式，自然极考验表演者和导演的功力，同时，它更挑观众，这是个连抖音超过30秒的视频都嫌长的时代，谁能静下来看20分钟的独角戏？

而且，都是喋喋不休。

这却是一部极具文学性的剧，当所有乱人心智耀人眼球的形式感被完全剔除，只有旁白，只用旁白，文本的魅力被放至无限。

最喜欢第一集，本韦肖主演，他是一个战争归来的士兵，讲述自己的经历，他讲述在欧洲遭遇的相聚和死亡，他说同僚会看着他，问你这样的人怎么辨认出彼此，他说自己的童年，在车站上看到一个老人被逮捕，那老人的眼睛迅速掠过他，就像“一闪流光”，是的，这样的人，就靠“一闪流光”的眼神彼此确认，后来他才知道，那老人是王尔德，他接着讲述，他在战场上遇到了歆慕的人，头发像玉米金黄，他们在午后的野湖泊中游泳，休憩时，他看到阳光照射在那金黄的头发上，湿漉漉的水滴低落，他想向他靠近，对方却突然惊醒，说，我们回去吧。

战争再次爆发，他们被火车运送到四面八方，此去山长水远，命悬一线，站台上，他远远看到那一把金黄的头发，在与旁人聊天，眼神在他身上一掠，装作没看见，他的心顿时凉了半截，直到火车再度启程，他听到窗边有人叫他名字，原来他跟着火车走，将他搭在窗台上的手握在掌中，轻轻一吻，叫了一声他的名字。

幕落。

令人落泪的文本，也是令人落泪的文学性，而其存在于一部电视剧中，更令人感动。

时常觉得世界的荒芜，那时内心的极度丰富与外在的不均衡，说到底，中国目前所提倡的文化，也是纯功能性的文化，无非是娱乐性消费，或承担了政治宣传功能，纯粹的提升心智或实现高级审美的文本作品，并不存在，更别提文学性这种注定更高寡的，网剧，抖音，网络小说改编，几乎占据了一切眼球制高点，无论国力提升到什么水准，注定从文化到经济，依然停留在初级阶段。

追求精神丰富和自由的人，注定会在这片土壤里活得艰难，其实，追求文学性，就像追求一个更高层次的世界，这个世界与物质无关，沉迷于精神造物的人，本质上都无法与真实而灰色的世界兼容，正如妙玉的判词：过洁世同嫌，其实，过洁的人，又何曾不嫌世。

第一集The man on the platform 婉约深邃的情感和第四集Missing Alice 怅然成空的遗憾，细腻得直击人心，只是这种情感的共鸣最终在第七集的时候衰竭，走向不可抑制的诘问：为什么即使在LGBTQ这个本应代表包容的议题里，女性的声音仍旧弱势？

我当然能认同她对男装和男性身份的渴望，但这显然混淆了Les的自我身份认知/Les的刻板印象……你知道什么是解决办法吗？

多来几个女同角色吧！

#Queers好久没有看过如此有质感的剧了，片头/尾的钢琴旋律不愿错过半秒，灯光、布景与服饰，精致而精确。

每一集都像是一场引导冥想，置身，共情：或莞尔，或兴奋，或悲伤，能闻到皮革和烟草的香。

当下还有什么能让人专心看一个人絮叨。

感恩自己的阅历与对大英的了解，才能有这般体味。

Missing Alice这集目前Top1，故事和表演均为上乘！

小鲜肉Fionn的演技简直，把怯懦紧张时絮叨的少年活现，如果这不是他本人的性格那愈加期待敦刻尔克了。

小本这集很心水，小本演技数一数二，故事如指肚触碰水面的沁透激凉。

期待最后一集…#LongLiveBritish #LongLiveBBC

E1 剧本真是好。

继承夭折哥哥的名字，品尝禁果的描述也太贴切了。

E3 作为特殊群体，渴望被尊重与平等对待，但也愿意享有特别身份所能给予的归属感与"特权"。

Stereotype，或广义讲标签化是具有两面性的，它们粗鲁地去个体化，但也具有一定的真实性。

E5 谈到gay间的暗语It's supposed to protect u from lily law. It's not supposed to be on the wireless everyday, for the amusement of bored polones.E6有色人种在本国得不到成为自己的权利，被禁止进入上层阶级的地方，被鄙视挑拣，却要为国家上战场。

E8·Rights aren't like cake,me having some doesn't mean you get less. Me having the right to get married doesn't take anything away from anyone else.·You can't really blame children. Little pitchers. What gets poured in gets poured out.·You can't have a gay wedding without Oscar Wilde quote." All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his." 这段和E1的呼应太😭了。

·PDAs can still make me nervious.(Public Display of Affection公开示爱)"If there's a gay kid in here with his folks, frightened that he's a freak, don't you think that it might give him hope, seeing two guys wandering around, being themselves, getting their groceries, like everyone else? "是的，我们争取权利，努力发声，独立思考，很多时候不是因为能够在现阶段真正改变什么，而是让其他人和后辈更有信心罢了。

If happiness is a place, it's the biscuit aisle in Sainsbury's.

剧本来源：BBC官方网站 搬运/侵删Queers. s01e01 Episode ScriptThe Man On the PlatformDouglas Fairbanks there thinks he's in with a chance.A bit of company on a wet Friday night.Except old Dougie doesn't have a cast in his eye and a built-up shoe.At least, not last time I was at the flickers.It's always the eyes.That's how you know.A glance held just that little bit too long, dragged off to one side, like the trail of a Very light in the dark.After the do, the, um, interview ..the officer asks me, not unkindly, I must say, "So how do you chaps, "chaps like you and the captain, know one another?" So I told him.Not my words, something somebody said to me once."A certain liquidity of the eye." That's how HE knew.My eyes are bad, mind you.Too bad for shooting Prussians at any rate, so I was shunted onto hospital work."Cushy", says Sam."That's a charabanc holiday, Perce."You always wanted to see France, didn't you?" I remember my first day in resus - the resuscitation tent.That's where they take the dying or the nearly dying and the shocked ones.There's heated beds to put some life back into them, and transfusions.Our guns were going hell for leather.The sky was all lit up - powdery, green.Horrible green.Like the air was sick.Star shells, Verys, dumps going up.And then the ambulances come in and we have to ferry them in, the ones that can't walk.And they've got these labels on them that tell you what's wrong with them.Like left luggage.Have you ever carried a stretcher? Bloody horrible.You feel like your arms are going to pop out of their sockets.Some chaps can get very heavy.Those that can walk into the hospital ..are covered in mud and salt sweat.Caked in it.All stiff and cracked, like moving statues, like those poor fuckers in Pompeii what got covered in lava.I've seen photographs of them in the lending library.And then, in the resus tent, a thing you'd never expect.Silence.Not a moan or a groan.They're beyond all that, I suppose, most of them.Smoking, breathing, just about.Mind you, I've seen what a transfusion can do and it is a bloody miracle.Lads with one foot in the grave and their pulses all thready, they have the transfusion, they're up, they're joking, they're having a smoke in a couple of hours.I said to Captain Leslie, I said, "You wouldn't credit it, would you? "It's like It's like witchcraft." "Sounds about right", he says, "since we're in hell." But he says it with a smile and when he does that there's these creases in his cheeks like ripples in the sand."You're a credit to this unit, Percy", he says to me."You've all the tenderness of a woman." And he shakes my hand."It's Terrence," he says and I says, "What is?" He says, "Me."My name.Terence Lesley."Do call me Terence."I can't bear all this formal rot." But he's an officer and it don't seem right, so, "I'll stick to Captain Leslie," I say, "if it's all the same." He just smiles again and shrugs.And his eyelashes are long.Long and blonde.I can't see much of his hair cos it's under his cap, but then one day I'm bringing in a stretcher ..and he takes his hat off and, just like that, his hair tumbles out.Yellow as corn.And I must have stared because he grins at me and pushes his hair out of his eyes and says, "Come along, Perce, stir your stumps." But I don't move.And just for a bit Well, like I say, held just a just a moment too long.Douglas Fairbanks over there will give me a wink in a minute.There you go.HE SIGHS KNOWINGLY I've always been a skinny bugger, me.Thin as a whip, Mother says.Father was the same.Mother always had a bit more beef on her after she had Albert and me, and there was one before us.A boy.But he died.He was called Percy, an' all.Poison berries.Never think a thing like that can happen, but it does.I can remember Mother showing me the pictures in the medicine book, all shiny and glossy pictures like Jesus in the book at Sunday School.And little Percy had grabbed a handful of these berries and ..that was that.Box, I think, the berries.Black, like little bullets.Like liquorice sweeties.Maybe that's what little Percy thought they was.Anyway, they done for him and then, a year or so after that, along comes I and they call me Percy, too.A bit odd, some might say, a bit morbid, but Mother always said that she could see him in me.And she looks so funny when she says that to me ..and she looks so sad.But I don't think it's just because of little Percy because there was another time she looked at me the same way.It was freezing, I remember that.We was waiting for a train.Dad had some business in Reading, I forget what it was.We were to come with and make a day of it.I was 15, thereabouts.Albert was 12.I'd been dispatched in search of tea and buns.They all sat in the waiting room, steam coming off them like wet dogs.Anyway, I'm on my way to the refreshments and there's a commotion, so I think, "Oh, the train must be coming in," so I say to the girl behind the tea stall, pretty girl I remember with bows in her hair, I ask her to get a shift on.She says, "What's the hurry? The Reading train isn't in for another "quarter of an hour." So I think, "What's all the fuss about, then?" And then I see it ahead of me on the platform.Policemen, at least I think they're policemen, but then I look properly and they're not, they're from the jail.Dark uniforms, little hats with shiny brims.And between them, well, aa prisoner ..waiting to be taken away, I suppose.And it's not the first time I've seen as such.I used to see them a lot, poor bastards, shuffling along in their chains and the arrows on their clothes.And it's rough clobber, like to make you itch, worse than this.So, "Why are all these folk whispering and pointing?" I wonder.So I look at the chap in the chains and he's a big chap, sort of like a big bear of a fella.With a big slack, pouchy face.Fat-ish, except it's all sunk in now, and his hair, which was most likely black as your hat is now shot through with grey.And he looks wretched.As well he might.There's rain dripping off his hair and down the creases in his big face.And then I realise, it's not just rain, he's bloody crying.And then he looks at me.And there it was.In that moment ..a certain liquidity of the eye.And then he looks back down at his boots and it's as if the whole world has come tumbling down around him.I stand there.And I think, "He knows me."He knows me for what I am."He can see it in me." And I start to shake.And it's not from the cold, it's shame.And fear and ..terror.And someone starts laughing.And there's a little girl and she's wandered close to the prisoner.She's got a little wooden horse on a dirty bit of string.And then her mother goes up and drags the girl away from the man as if he were like to eat her up.And then I hear it, a name.Whispered behind fancy gloves and November hands what are stiff with cold."It's him, isn't it?" And suddenly Dad's beside me and he's gripping my arm and he says, "You all right, Perce?" And he's proper worried.And there's a sort of ringing noise in my ear and I feel for a moment like I might faint, but then this chap goes straight up to the prisoner on the platform and he He spits in his face.And Dad looked shocked.And just then, the train comes puffing into the station, steam everywhere.And I look back to the prisoner, but he's covered now in a great big cloud of steam.Dad picks up the tea and the buns and he gets us into the carriage.It smells of damp wool and musty, like church, and there's little beads of rain on the window, the open window.And Mum pulls down the leather strap and the sound sort of ..snaps me out of it."What was all that fuss about there, Clem?" And Dad sups at his tea and it hangs in little drops from the ends of his Kitchener 'tashe."You won't believe it," he says."Out there on the platform, waiting to be taken to prison" "Who?" pipes up Albert.And he looks at us and he shakes his head in wonder."Oscar Wilde!" he says.And then Mum looks at me.Tender, like I've never had the nerve.That's the thing, I suppose.A notion of getting in trouble or being a bother I could always imagine Mother's face if she found out I'd been up to things.And I couldn't bear it, I couldn't bear to disappoint, so I didn't, I didn't do anything about it.Not even a tuppeny wank with Sam or nothing.I kept my own counsel, as they say.Also, there was a girl who was sweet on me.Annie.And that sort of stopped people asking, I suppose.We courted for a long while, but she got fed up because I never asked her to marry me.I took on like Annie had broke my heart and then, what with one thing or another and then the war, it sort of, somehow, I got away with it.A lot of questions, of course.Especially when all us Tommies were billeted together for the first time."You married?" "No." "You got a girl?" "Well, I used to." And then one day, in Amiens, there was a sort of lull.Hot as hell it was.Not what you think.People think of all that mud and rain, but we was there the live long year and sometimes it was hot and parched.Fucking flies everywhere.Blue and green bellies on them.Fat.Great clouds of them because of the dead bodies.And Captain Leslie comes up to me and he slaps me on the shoulder and he says, "Come along, Perce, we're going hunting." And I say, "What?" He says, "Butterflies", because we're camped on this sort of downland.And there's marigolds and poppies all over, little splashes of colour.I can still taste the dust.Chalky in your mouth and your hair and ..on the Dunlop tyres like white paint, because Terrence had only gone and got us bicycles, the silly bugger.And it was only for a few hours but you could forget, you know, for a bit, everything that was going on.And we came to this sort of lake.It was a crater hole, I suppose, and the water was glass green and clear like a perfume bottle.And Terence, he starts hollering and rattling the bike down to the water and he pulls off all his clothes and in he goes.I follows, and then we go splashing about in our birthday suits.And he's brick red from the sunshine, but not where his shirt's been, so he's got this sort of red face and arms, and the rest of him is He's like a ghost.And after we've swum about, we just lie in the grass and fall asleep.You can hear the buzz of the flies, but they are way off and some of the ones that are closer are butterflies, so that's all right, and I just ..lie there and I watch Terence sleeping and ..his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.And his hair is golden.And the line of his jaw is just sort of ..perfect.Like a draughtsman's drawn it.Like I'd drawn it.And his lips are dark and full and they're like bramble.And all I want to do is bend down and And he opens his eyes ..and squints.And he lifts his hand to cover them so he can see better.And he says, "We'd best be getting back." We all had on us the stench of death.The bread we ate, the stagnant water, everything we touched had a rotten smell.But that day, everything was OK.It was bright.And it was pure, you see? And nobody had seen, had they? I've done my bit.The officer mentioned that.Exemplary service.When he took me aside for a quiet word.And of course, what had Terence and me What had the Captain and me ..got up to? Sweet FA.But someone had seen us and ..they thought, "Hello, what's going on here?" And it's bad for morale and all of that, so I was to be sent elsewhere.And, of course, I didn't get to see the Captain, did I? Because he'd been transferred, too.I was packed onto this carriage ..sweat and tobacco smelling and fellas pushing up against you and shoving for room, and the train gives a great big lurch and then it starts off.I just sit down on the floor and pull me cap over me eyes and drift off.I don't know how much time has passed, but I wake up and it's dark outside.And the train's pulling into a station and in the carriage it's just these little night lights on - bluey.They make everyone look three-parts dead.And the train pulls into the station and it's going slow, like, puffing, like some of them boys in the resus tent.And then, I do see him.Terence.He's out the window, on the platform.Grey coat, hair tucked under his cap, neat.And he's talking to someone.And they must have made him laugh cos there's those little lines in his cheeks again.But he don't see me.So I push through the carriage past the other fellas and it's not easy now cos most have dropped off and I trip over some poor bugger and he curses me, but I make it to the window and I pull down the sash ..and the air outside is warm.And all I want to do is wave.But, of course, what can I say? Um "So long, Captain Leslie?" "So long, Perce." But then he does see me.He glances over, but he's still talking to his pal and just then the train lurches forward.The brakes go on and the blue lights go out and just like that, pitch-black.And all the other fellas in the carriage start groaning and someone says, "Oh, here we fucking go," but all I can feel is my heart beating and the air.And the darkness pressing against the window and my hand gripping the window ledge.And then someone takes my hand.Someone outside on the platform.And it's Terence.And he takes my hand and he just ..lifts it to his lips and he kisses it.There's no train then, there's no troops, there's no war.There's just his bramble lips pressed against the tips of my fingers ..and all the hair on my neck goes up on end.And then the train lurches forward and he's let go of my hand and all the blue lights go on, and Outside there's nothing but steam.Steam and darkness.Next Episode >Queers. Episode Scripts | More Television Show Episode Scripts

On November 13th 1895 I was brought down here from London. From two o'clock till half-past two on that day I had to stand on the centre platform of Clapham Junction in convict dress and handcuffed, for the world to look at. I had been taken out of the Hospital Ward without a moment’s notice being given to me. Of all possible objects I was the most grotesque. When people saw me they laughed. Each train as it came up swelled the audience. Nothing could exceed their amusement. That was of course before they knew who I was. As soon as they had been informed, they laughed still more. For half an hour I stood there in the grey November rain surrounded by a jeering mob[135d]. For a year after that was done to me I wept every day at the same hour and for the same space of time. That is not such a tragic thing as possibly it sounds to you. To those who are in prison, tears are a part of every day’s experience. A day in prison on which one does not weep is a day on which one’s heart is hard, not a day on which one’s heart is happy.1 8 9 5年1 1月1 3日，我从伦敦被带到这里。

那天从两点到两点半，我得站在克列珀汉转换站的中央站台上，穿着囚衣戴着手铐，让天下人观看。

一点也没预先通知，就把我从医院病房带出来。

天上人间，那时就数我最丑最怪。

人们看到我就笑。

每来一班火车就增加一层观众。

没什么比这更能逗他们乐了。

这当然是在他们知道我是谁之前。

等知道了之后，他们笑得更厉害了。

我就这么半个小时地站在那里，冒着十一月的冷雨，面对一团讥笑连连的匹夫匹妇。

在那次遭遇后的一年里，每天到了那个钟点，我都要哭，哭上同样长的那么一段时间。

这事你听着也许不觉得有那么悲伤。

对那些监狱中人，眼泪是每日必备的经历。

在牢里，要有谁哪一天不哭，那是他的心硬了，而不是他的心喜了。