Black Spot

话语和世界说了什么，然后是他所说的——大地啃食我们的牙齿。我们都太早进入了鬼魂世界，我在阳台上抄写名著的第一页，仿佛如此它的魔力也能进入我的大脑里，缠绕着屎的电路，不曾看见，不曾如实地看到任何事物。一间空房间，墙上的相框里有白色的台布，但桌面上不存在玻璃板。有人进来了。皮鞋的纹路是无趣的，像十二只鬣狗不停地唱着的那首独奏曲。拉丁舞曲。我们曾经看到，海边夕阳下万物呈现出的紫红色光线，但画作永远只能是画作而已，水彩画的失真，永远重现的卡壳。枪手在街上行走，没人注意到他，或者说他认为没人注意到他，实际上他周围空无一人。那个将要阻止他的人在天蓝色的摇篮里游泳——像海岸线一样的无边泳池。呕吐物之河。他走，直到永恒的厌倦降临。将要被杀死的女人住在树屋或者地下室里，他对报亭的老头说今夜像曾经出现过的二十八个夜晚一样是一个宁静幸福的夜晚——不详之夜——每个这样的夜晚里都有一个小女孩独自穿过森林，寻找变装的野兽，一只狼对她说，不要走了，我就是你要找的最终的那只野狼，我将把你的皮肉撑破，我们会上演永恒的布偶戏的最后一幕。女孩问：你会吃掉我吗？狼说不会。女孩走了。老头说今天我们见到了世界上最后的鬼魂。枪手说我们只是花了眼。枪手走在路上，想女孩：她口渴直到她死去，她死的时候太阳想事情总是这样无论如何也不会有人接受我的帮助。他看见十二架马车滑下山坡，看见女人在树上用针线缝补自己的皮肉，他不敢看女人。女人是一种白骨。他闭着眼，爬到树上，把针扎进女人的脖颈（他的针）。他走了。森林里没有鬼。

What did words and the world say, and then what he said. The land is gnawing at our teeth. We all entered the world of ghosts too early, I copied the first page of a classic on the balcony, as if its magic could also enter my mind, electrical circuits intertwined with shit. Never seeing, never seeing anything as it is. An empty room, a white tablecloth in the frame on the wall, there is no glass pane on the table. Someone came in. The texture of their leather shoes was dull, like the solo piece sung by twelve hyenas endlessly. A Latin dance tune. We once saw, by the sea, the purplish-red light of everything appeared under the pale sunset, but paintings could always only be paintings—watercolors' distortion, the ever-repeating stutter. A gunman walked down the street. No one noticed him, or so he thought. In fact, no one was around. The one destined to stop him is swimming in a sky-blue cradle—a boundless pool like a coastline.The river of vomit. He walked, until the eternal weariness descended. The woman he was going to kill lived in a treehouse or a basement. He told the old man at the newsstand that tonight, is like the twenty-eight nights before, would be a night of peace and happiness—an ominous night — each of these nights there was a little girl walking alone through the forest, looking for a beast in disguise. A wolf would say to her: "Don't walk any further, I am the final wild wolf you're searching for, I will wear on you until your skin and flesh stretches and tears, then together we will perform the final act of the eternal puppet show." The girl asked, "Will you eat me?"The wolf said, "No."The girl left. "Today we have seen the last ghost in the world." The old man said. The gunman said, "This is just our presbyopia.” The gunman walked down the road, thinking of the girl: she‘s thirsty until her death. When she died, the sun thought, "Things are always like this, no one will ever accept my help anyway." He saw twelve carriages sliding down the hill and a woman sewing her skin with needle and thread while sitting in a tree. He didn’t dare look at her. A woman was a kind of white bone. He closed his eyes, climbed the tree and pierced a needle into the woman’s neck (his needle). He left. There are no ghosts in the forest.