我的向往在他的疯狂星期五
终于有时间把房间打扫一番,然后把这幅《星夜》
挂上去。之前自己用碎纸砌成的
蓝色的那幅画拿了下来。晚上
睡觉时,想到自己身旁有一整空的
星星就很开心。
朋友送来时,盒子上也有其他
拼图。其中,也是梵谷的《Cafe Terrace at Night》,然后就
萌起自己也来拼的
念头。唉,算了,我连个300拼图都
没有完成过。

后来在网上看了看资料,原来这两幅画完成的那一年,他住进了
精神病院。那年的疯狂,他画下了最
出色的作品。
为什么总是在
疯狂中,自己才最清醒。
为什么我
喜欢这两幅画?
我自己也不知道,只知道这种喜欢里有一份
向往,向往到他画的地方,进入他的
疯狂。梵谷企图自杀。是他的世界
寂静得让他
发慌,还是:
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will...
我们自己都有一个自己的世界。偶然
长大了,忘记这个地方,住进了大家
共同生活的空间。他们说,我们是
群体动物,徘徊在自己的世界的人就会像梵谷那么
痛苦。
却
没有人能了解。

《Vincent》
Starry, starry night.Paint your palette blue and grey,Look out on a summer's day,With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.Shadows on the hills,Sketch the trees and the daffodils,Catch the breeze and the winter chills,In colors on the snowy linen land.
Starry, starry night.Flaming flowers that brightly blaze, Swirling clouds in violet haze,Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,Weathered faces lined in pain,Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
For they could not love you,But still your love was true.And when no hope was left in sightOn that starry, starry night,You took your life, as lovers often do.But I could have told you, Vincent,This world was never meant for oneAs beautiful as you.
Starry, starry night.Portraits hung in empty halls,Frameless head on nameless walls,With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.Like the strangers that you've met,The ragged men in the ragged clothes,The silver thorn of bloody rose,Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,How you suffered for your sanity,How you tried to set them free.They would not listen, they're not listening still.Perhaps they never will...