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As they get elderly and more dependent; such parents step up their demands; making son or daughter dance attendance;terrified of doing anything to displease。 Still no effort will ever be sufficient to make up for disappointing them。

Only death will break the fetters of this carefully devised entrapment。 And the parents will go to their grave never having received the gift of their child’s true affection。

Like most seven…year…olds; I adored my first teacher; seeing her as infinitely superior in her elevated position of authority; appointed to dispel the darkness of our ignorance。 txt小说上传分享

Growing up 长大(3)

Every word uttered by her; every scrap of knowledge she imparted; I lapped up as if it was mother’s milk。

One day she introduced us to the concept of origin。 “All you see around you in this class…room;” she declared; “has been something else before。” Now; as we pointed out different things to her; she would explain how they had started out。

A lot of pointing ensued: This desk; we learnt; had once been a tree growing in the forest… just like the copy…book… That school…bag was made from the hide of a cow… the sweater had been knitted from sheep’s wool… And so on。

Thankful for an opportunity to clarify the background of an object that had long mystified me; I pointed to the bakelite electric socket。

The teacher blanched。 For a moment she seemed at a loss for words。 Then she posed herself and said; in a loud didactic voice: “That socket used to be… er… er… It’s imported。 That’s it。 From Africa。 It grows there; on a very rare bush。 Next; please。”

From that moment I have never trusted authority。

“Perhaps it is the way God intended it;” sighed the mother of two teenage boys; half in jest。 “To make your little darlings so obnoxious that it will be a relief; not a tragedy; to see them flee the nest。”

Lowering her voice confidentially; she added: “Sometimes I feel as if I can’t take another day of living with so much opposition… ungraciousness… rudeness…”

I tried to cheer her up by quoting the old Oriental wisdom that it is from those who give us most trouble that we stand to learn the most。

“Oh yes;” she retorted cynically。 “I’ve learnt my lesson。 How not to bring up children。 I’ve been far too nice to them。”

The teenage conflicts that erupt in most healthy families should not be taken lightly or ignored as a passing ; as the established parentchild positions bee outgrown。

Whether it’s long harboured childhood grievances finally surfacing; or a straight…forward need for adult autonomy; teenage rebellion is a signal that an entirely new bond has to be forged。

As in all personal clashes; only mutual respect will achieve it。 Keep in mind that the way you handle this passage will determine your future relationship with the adult son or daughter。

In a public ward my bed was placed opposite two teenagers hospitalized for a different reason。 A precarious friendship seemed to have developed between the two。

One evening the younger one broke down and wept bitterly。

“I never wanted this;” she sobbed。 “It was Mum and Dad made me。 And then Daniel… Daniel said he’d never speak to me again if I didn’t do it。”

“e on;” sneered the older girl disdainfully。 “You wouldn’t want a snotty brat on your hands。”

Not much forted; the grieving girl reached for her mobile phone; having made what sounded like a momentous decision: “I’m going to ring Daniel。”

Her girlish voice resounded; tense and tearful; through the room: “Hi Daniel; it’s me。 I feel awful… No one told me it would be like this… It’s as if I done something terrible… something that can never be undone。 I don’t know how I shall ever get over it… It’s more than I can cope with…Daniel – I’m scared。”

While she drew breath listening to Daniel; I think we were all wondering what his response might be。 “Oh yeah?” we heard her say。 “Cool。 Okay; speak to you soon。”

She stared into space; looking very much like the child she was。 Her friend got impatient。 “What did Daniel say?”

It was a moment before the girl replied: “He said he’d had a haircut。”

Identity 身份(1)

这是一个我从未期待自己会出现的地方:在色雷斯首都——古城菲利普波利斯,一个保存完好的剧场,在清晨的金色阳光下静谧地矗立着。

我独自张望,一列列同心圆形状的石头圆环被分成了等分,一圈圈地向外延伸,有些延展到了无限的远处,而另一些则被横向的台阶拦截住……

光和影交错成了一幅混合着成长、现实与潜在的平衡画面。

止步于中心圆环附近,我试图解释为何这一切看起来如此熟悉,像是重新回到了属于自己的土地上。尽管我知道,前世和今生从未到过色雷斯。

不,这不是一个地点,这是一种时空交错的组合,是几何构想造就了剧场,整幅画面是结构和戏剧以希腊式婚姻的方式完美组合的结果。

这是它第一次闯入我的意识中来,或许曾经也出现过。它是指引我的星辰,是我一直渴望的完美景象,是我对目标的定义——建筑、剧院、占星术——符合我写过的每一种元素。

我的脑海中在想象着这样一幅三维画面,构建着这样一个圆形剧场,这让我花了很长时间,不过,它值得我如此地期待。

我是一个移民,与那些背井离乡的人一样,我们牺牲了出生地带来的与生俱来的安全感,放弃了原有的背景和教育所带来的明确身份。

这一切,皆是为了追寻一个重新的开始所带来的神秘乐趣,一个不附加任何条件的、没有任何阻碍的新生活,赤裸得如同你刚出生一般。即使要为此被打入社会的底层重新开始,也在所不惜。每一个人——即使是沦落街头的乞丐——如果他是身处自己的国家中,都比刚移民来的外国人更有优势。

最开始,你挣扎着,对那些别人早已习以为常的规矩毫不知情,结结巴巴地说着错误百出的外语,无法为自己辩护,甚至无意中就会触犯条例和规矩。你表现得像个智力有缺陷的人一样,别人待你也是如此。尊重和礼貌对你来讲简直是奢侈品。

如果你是个聪明的移民,你很快会应对那些挑战,尽自己全力去吸收当地的一切,迅速而疯狂地打拼

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