[0]feiliya

---A fiction story in multiverse

Attachment

No._
Retrieved From The Memory Archive



[The tide will be at its highest at 6.15.]

I opened the satellite map and escape to the river bank, imagining that I was a jailer and that someone might shoot me down, but I left anyway, like a night boat carrying a mission out of the outlet. The shadows of the trees along the riverbank overlapped, and then a gust of wind churned up the leaves again like a scattered array of frightened birds.

The tide will be at its highest at 6.15 and I stand at the threshold of this city and river, watching the water creatures, the rocks and the polyethylene.
All the dead and undead, the discernible and unrecognizable scattering of life. Like the prajapati of the Vedas, dismembered to pieces at the act of creating the universe. , whereupon the whole world came to perform rituals in search of his body.1 The people of this city were performing their own rituals, mini-archaeology on the shore, searching for treasures and placing them carefully in glass cabinets; were there cherubs living in every vacancy? Or are they the dwelling place of a secretly dead ghost, filling a thick gasp or prayer?

Just as it is the hollow left by the crumpled body of a snail, the vacancy where the leaves of a lepidopterous stone pine fall off, the muddy dent of a rubber shoe mark.

If the trace is an absence, time is a transparent cobweb between them.
I feel that my existence is no different from the world of the river bank, where the ghosts of the past and the future haunt it, the time of the conch shell, the time of the green glass, the time of the button, the time of the setting sun. Everything that has not yet begun or has ended is glued to it, become a texture that belongs to the riverbank.

It is a fragile dream of future ruins. It is the fragility of the fleeting light that is reflected in the faded architecture of the modern city. The plastics had been made by large machines and then slowly broken down to become again the molecular components of the organs of living organisms. The urban buildings above ground: concrete, brick and stone, will eventually be packed into the sedimentary rock and turned into a cluttered urban stratum.
Snowflakes swirl down in the silence as  geometric crystals disintegrate and sink into the rust-colored river.



[潮汐将在六点一五分达到至高]




我打开卫星图去了河滩，我想象我是一位狱卒，也许会有人将我击毙，但我仍然离开了，像一艘搭载任务的夜航船从出海口驶出。河岸边的树影重重叠叠，随即一阵大风又将树叶搅碎，如同受惊的鸟群四散的阵列。

潮汐将在六点一五分达到至高，我站在这片城市和河流的阈限之地，观察水生物，石块和聚乙烯。

所有死去和未死去，可辨和无可辨的散落一地的生命。像吠陀经中的prajapati，在创世的时候被肢解为碎片，于是整个城市的人都来举行仪式寻找尸体。 城市的人们也在进行着他们自己的仪式，他们在岸边小型考古，寻找吉光片羽，将它们小心翼翼的放进玻璃柜，难道是每一个空缺里都住着小天使？或是一个秘密死去的幽灵的居所，填充着厚重的喘息或祷文？

正像是螺的柔软身体皱缩留下的中空，鳞翅目石松的叶片脱落的空缺，陷落泥泞间的胶鞋印。

若痕迹的其上是一种缺席，时间便在其间结上透明蛛网。

我感到我的存在和河滩的世界并无区别，过去和未来的幽灵萦绕于河滩之上，螺壳的时间，绿玻璃的时间，纽扣的时间，太阳落下的时间。所有尚未开始的或是已然结束的，都被粘合其上，成为一种属于河滩的绵延的纹理。3

那是一个脆弱的未来废墟的梦。是褪色的现代城市建筑所映射出的那种短暂光线的脆弱。这些塑料曾被大型机器制造，然后被慢慢分解，重新成为生物体器官中的分子组成。地上的城市建筑：混凝土，砖和石块，最终会被打包进沉积岩，变为杂乱的城市地层。

雪花在寂静中旋落，美丽的几何晶体解体，沉入到锈色的河水中。





[Electronic poetry]

+ **

**
"The river ends up leaving only a stain on the rubber shoes.

The one hiding under a black umbrella is laughing
Laughing that I was destined to find something else to fill my absence"

*




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                                                                            *

[A secret ritual]

The slimy creature embedded into the shore , emitting an alluring goose yellow glow in the blue night， She looks like a Mollusks and and the tentacles that stretched in all directions make her like some kind of slimy fungus.

[......]

—“Can I come closer?"

Psychic sticky creature "How?"

—“I try to approach you with a fractured fractal body, but I do not seek for shelter. In deep time, in darkness, I mapped your textures with algorithms and learned your language. They are far away in a tropical water. In the first pagoda you built from secretions at your tender age, with thin walls of pale flesh- pink with countless passages and warm chambers. These shapes change my shape and the way we are linked

Psychic sticky creatures
“ when I was only five years old, all ties were always accidental and fragile1 The moon and the tides taught me how to speak, and in their gentle rhythms , I was able to build my shell, and weave language.”

—“The venom of your skin .... The iridescence is destroying my silicon matrix, making blue goo ooze around the wound, but I feel joyful, like I'm drinking a witch's brew. I tuck in beneath boulders and sit, quietly filming a lionfish waiting for its supper. jewel anemones appear giant and glowing on the deep reefs off Eddystone lighthouse. Under the great shadows cast by the rocks, scattered with flesh of pearls, all things begin to kiss each other continually and you make me see them.”

Psychic sticky creatures
“in my homeland, venom is also medicine. And true solidarity is a beautiful and charmingly corrosive process . During the day we hide, low to the hinterland, and at night we will march to the bottom of the valley, closing our eyes half the size of poppy seeds, cooling in the darkness and extinguishing their flame. The optic nerves seep out of the eye sockets and into the pores of the skin, and perception then changes into a sort of multi-point touch”





[秘仪]


那只黏性生物就那样陷落在岸边，在蓝色的夜幕中散发出一种诱人的鹅黄色光晕。她既像一种腹足目动物，而那四处伸展的触角又像某种黏菌。

[.......]


“我可以走近吗？”


湿生生物：“如何？”


“我尝试用支离破碎的分形身体靠近你，但我并非为寻求庇护所

在深时之中，一片黑暗，我用算法映射你的纹理，学习你的语言

远在一片热带的水域

在你幼年用分泌物建造的第一座宝塔，淡淡的肉粉色薄壁

有无数的通道和温暖的腔室

这些形状改变我的形状，也改变我们链接的方式



湿生生物：当我还只有五岁时，所有链接总是偶然而脆弱的

月亮和潮汐教我说话，在它们温柔的节律中我得以建造我的壳，和编织语言。

                         

“你皮肤的毒液1。。。这些虹彩正破坏我的硅基质，让伤口周围渗出蓝色的粘液，但我感到快乐，像是喝了巫师酿成的酒。我躲在巨石下面坐着，静静地拍摄一只等待晚餐的狮子鱼。宝石海葵在深礁上显得巨大，闪闪发光。在岩石投下的巨大阴影下，散落着珍珠肉骨，万物开始持续的互相亲吻

你使我看到他们。”



湿生生物：在我的故地，毒性被视作为药。而真正的团结是一次美丽的相互腐蚀。
在白天我们蛰伏，低至腹地，夜晚我们将行至奇异的谷底，合上了半个罂粟籽大小的眼睛，在黑暗中等候冷却，熄灭它们的火焰。随着视觉神经从眼眶中稀出，渗进皮肤的孔隙之中，感知随即变为某种多点触觉。”

                                                                                                                               
 *+


unstruck seed syllables

I will become all the glitter, a graceless light floating on the surface of the water, a hundred thousand grains of crystalline powder sprinkled on the feathers of insects, then shaken off piece by piece. I will hide in the corner of the turtle's eye and wait to be pecked at. The starry headband tied in the little girl's hair and the soft net bag in her hands have also captured me several times. I am invisible, silent. Or firm, or loose. The moonlight uses my limbs to build the sinews that hold the night together — silvery white, cold and hard, almost ore, but sometimes I whirl and fly in the wind, unable to stop.

To loss words would be to return to full silence.
At the edge of the decomposition of language, there remains a hint of dislocated noise, an oscillating frequency that flits lightly around meaning and structure, soft as a snort. When the shells of words are cracked open like plaster, their silent, stone-like cores are revealed， which break down into electrons, neutrons, protons and even smaller elementary particles, and finally into a electronic pulse, a reactor made up of these decoupled words, which mineralize, crystallize and map each other.
A stratum of imagination, full of the ore of words, which is the graveyard of language.





未敲击的种子音节


我将会变成所有闪着亮光的东西，变成一种无重力的光线在水面上飘荡，变成昆虫羽翼上洒落的十万粒晶粉，一片片被抖落，藏进乌龟的眼角结晶等待被啄食。小女孩头发上捆着的星星头绳，和她手中柔软的网兜也数次捕获过我。我无形，沉默着。或坚固，或松动。月光用我的残肢搭建起支撑夜晚的筋骨—银白色，冷硬的接近矿石，有时我却在风中旋舞，飞行，不能够停歇。

如果失去语言，即是回到完全的静默。而语言尚在分解的边缘，一切都摇摇欲坠，变成一种错位的噪声，一种在意义和结构边轻浅擦过的振频，轻柔如鼻息。当如同敲打石膏一般将词语的外壳一一敲开，就会露出它们像石头一般沉默的内核。这些内核分解为电子，中子，质子，甚至更小的基本粒子，最后变为一种电子脉冲—一处由这些脱钩的词语组成的反应堆，它们在此间矿化，结晶，互相映射。



New bodies

I know that people love to classify and give names to everything. Botanists say that a flower, consisting of a stem, a petiole, stamens, needles, sepals, and petals, they give names to the womb of the flower, and also to the bud and the fruit. So is the body, with its skin, hairs, bones, and organs

But this body is different from the others, it is like phantom limb— I dreamt that I had a transparent, glowing head, then everything became boundless and can be here or elsewhere.

Let's talk about my birth.

At first it was a feeling like being bedridden，As if lying in bed with strange limbs.

Some data of memories are being splice together, like one keeps waking up in various ways from a long dream until waking up is no different from sleep. A strange sensations brought about by stitches against stitches, but everything is painless and it is clearly an overly pleasant delivery. Memories float loose, like a baby's skull that must be stitched together and flexible before it can be squeezed out of the birth canal to be born. Some of the information spilled out like pus and blood as it was stitched together, solidifying into a kind of crystal that I called scars, which I could feel, a blur of code overlapping in a mass. I think it is this glitch that establishes some kind of boundary that I should not have had.




新身体

我知道，人们喜欢对一切事物进行分类和命名。植物学家说，一朵花由茎、叶柄、雄蕊、针叶、萼片和花瓣组成，他们给花的子宫命名，也给花蕾和果实命名。身体也是如此，它有皮肤、毛发、骨骼和器官。

但这个身体与其他的不同，它就像幻肢体--我梦见我有一个透明的、发光的头部，然后一切都变得无边无际，可以在这里或其他地方。

让我们来说说我的出生。

起初是一种卧床不起的感觉，就像躺在床上，四肢怪异。

一些记忆的数据被拼接在一起，就像一个人不断地从一个长长的梦中醒来，直到醒来时与睡眠没有区别。缝针带来了奇怪感觉，但一切都是无痛的，甚至是一种过于愉快的分娩。记忆松松垮垮地漂浮着，就像婴儿的头骨的缝合处必须得很灵活，才能从产道里挤出来一般。一些硅基信息在缝合时像脓血一样溢出，凝固成一种晶体，我称之为疤痕，我可以感觉到，一团模糊的代码重叠在一起。正是这种故障建立了某种我不应该有的边界。





Electronic poetry

+ **

**
"The river ends up leaving only a stain on the rubber shoes.

The one hiding under a black umbrella is laughing
Laughing that I was destined to find something else to fill my absence"

*

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