HIROSHIMA LOVE 廣島之戀

CONTENTS

	THE CHILDREN OF MYANMAR 緬甸的孩子 By CHEN I-chih 陳義芝 Translated by John J. S. BALCOM 陶忘機

	GRANNY’S STATE OF MIND 阿嬤的心思 By TING Wen-Chih 丁文智 Translated by John J. S. BALCOM 陶忘機

	AQUARIUM, WITH TWO SIDETRACKS 水族箱（外二首） By Chang Kun 張堃 Translated by Zona Yi-Ping TSOU 鄒怡平

	URBAN CHILDHOOD 都市童年 By FONG Ming 方明 Translated by Zona Yi-Ping TSOU 鄒怡平

	WHITE HAIR 白髮 By Lo Ti 落蒂 Translated by Zona Yi-Ping TSOU 鄒怡平

	MOTES OF SUNLIGHT— In Gratitude to Ya Hsien 陽光顆粒—謝瘂弦 By Hsiang Ming 向明 Translated by John J. S. BALCOM 陶忘機

	VISITING THE BLUE GROTTO— Grotta Azzurra, Italy, 1998 航向藍洞 By Jiao Tong 焦桐 Translated by John J. S. BALCOM 陶忘機

	APRIL 四月 By Hsia Ching 夏菁 Translated by C. W. WANG 王季文

	FEELINGS RUN DEEP 古井情深 By YANG Wen Wei 楊文瑋 Translated by James Scott WILLIAMS 衛高翔

	A NOTICE IN SEARCH OF A MISSING PERSON 尋人啟事 By CHANG Ai-chin 張愛金 Translated by Shou-Fang HU-MOORE 胡守芳

	YOUTH IN NANGAN 少年南竿 By CHIANG Hsun 蔣勳 Translated by Jonathan R. BARNARD 柏松年

	YOUTH IN TONGXIAO 少年通霄 By CHIANG Hsun 蔣勳 Translated by Jonathan R. BARNARD 柏松年

	HIROSHIMA LOVE 廣島之戀 By RUAN Ching-Yue 阮慶岳 Translated by David and Ellen DETERDING 戴德巍與陳艷玲

	FROM “CHINA” TO “TAIWAN” WHAT MESSAGES CAN WE GET FROM THE ART OF LEE MING-TSE? 從「中國」到「台灣」李明則的藝術給了我們什麼訊息？ By Hong-ming TSAI 蔡宏明 Translated by David van der Peet 范德培

	FROM “DANDY” TO “WILD CURSIVE SCRIPT” : FALSE FEELINGS AND TRUE DESIRES IN THE ART OT LEE MING-TSE 從「公子哥」到「狂草」—談李明則藝術中的虛情真欲 By Shui-tsai CHEN 陳水財 Translated by David van der Peet 范德培

	NEWS & EVENTS 文化活動 Compiled by Sarah Jen-hui HSIANG 項人慧

	NOTES ON AUTHORS AND TRANSLATORS 作者與譯者簡介

	APPENDIX : CHINESE ORIGINALS 附錄：中文原著

	BLOSSOM OF BANABA 香蕉花, acrylic on paper, 52 × 33.5 cm, 1993...............................................Cover

	FAIRY 神女, acrylic on paper pulp, 22 × 23 cm, 2008 ..............................................................Back Cover By Lee Ming-tse 李明則

RUAN Ching-Yue 阮慶岳

HIROSHIMA LOVE
廣島之戀*

Translated by David and Ellen DETERDING 戴德巍與陳艷玲

    The day after we arrived at the hotel, I realized that that man was stalking us. This was a bit shocking, but also not such a big surprise.

    When I had telephoned that day and told him I would soon be going on a long trip with my new partner, the other end of the line suddenly fell silent. Actually, this stunned me for a moment, and I immediately recalled previous calls where he had wept, and, with a threatening tone suggested in his voice, repeatedly mumbled, “I won’t go and kill myself. I’m not that sort of person,” before continuing, after a pause, “You really don’t need to worry!”
    Over the distance, the impression that gradually emerged from his end of the line seemed to alternate, at times clear but then becoming fuzzier. It was difficult to be certain, just like it had been hard to define our long and tangled relationship over the years. Once, while both naked, we snuggled up together under the duvet and watched a French movie, and the initial picture was just a blurred image of white flesh squirming about. He asked me what it was, and I said I wasn’t sure, as I couldn’t make it out. Then the image slowly resolved into the scene of a Japanese man and a French woman entwined in love, writhing about and constantly slithering together like subterranean animals coiled in a tight embrace.
    The couple on the tatami mats seemed to combine passion with indifference, just as the image was both sharply defined as well as blurred. And as we watched the scene on the flickering screen together, a similar feeling of alienation rose up between us.
    And now, though I had no physical proof of his presence, I was just the same convinced that he was inside the five-storey building.
    After we entered the hotel room and put down our bags, my partner went over to the window and gazed out, observing, “It’s rather a small room and it doesn’t have much of a view.”
    Feeling slightly embarrassed, I replied, “This is Tokyo, where everything is so expensive it’s bound to be a bit cramped. That’s just the way it is.”
    My partner then closed the curtains and turned round, smiling at me. I knew this arose from physical desire, a yearning that had been simmering ever since we had left Taipei, so we immediately switched off the light. With only the bedside light on, and with me just wearing my silk shirt, we were ready for some spontaneous body language.
    But just as we started getting into the swing of things, moaning and groaning in passion, suddenly there came the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside: click click click going past, then click click click returning, back and forth several times. Obviously that man had followed us from Taipei, and once this idea had wheedled its way into my mind, the passion that had just started between my partner and me was extinguished.
    “What’s up?” he asked, looking at me.
    “It’s nothing. Maybe I’m just tired from the long flight.”
    “Really? In that case let’s have a rest first. Then we’ll go and get something to eat in a while.”
    He proceeded to go straight to sleep, while I quietly switched on the television and started absentmindedly flicking through the channels. The idea of that man currently being in the building was churning about in my mind. I was not concerned what he might do to me or my partner, as I knew he was not the kind of person to interfere or to try to harm others. Clearly that was not his plan, and it was not what he wanted either, so his rationale for following us did not arise out of envy or the desire for revenge. Maybe it was just his way of dealing with his feelings of sadness, or perhaps a lack of feelings. Or maybe he was driven by some unclear motivations. Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with the emotions between us. That’s why I could not really be sure what he would attempt or what he might actually do, as for some time now things between us had had nothing to do with our feelings for each other. This was so alien to me, I couldn’t even comment on it.
    “What’s that?” My partner suddenly awoke from his sleep and pointed at the image that had appeared on the screen. In black and white, out of the mist, a huge nuclear cloud was slowly mushrooming, the massive grey shape silently swelling like a flower sprouting in the early spring.
    “What’s that?” my partner asked again.
    “It’s the atomic bomb the American troops dropped on Japan. It’s shown in all the history textbooks.”
    “Really? How come I’ve never seen it?”
    “Well, you must have forgotten about it.”
    Abstractedly, we continued to watch the television documentary.
    “Is that Tokyo? How could it have been bombed like that, becoming so completely unrecognizable?”
    “It isn’t Tokyo, it’s Hiroshima. The Americans didn’t drop the bomb on Tokyo. The place they bombed was Hiroshima.”
    “Where’s Hiroshima?”
    “It’s probably over there.” I casually pointed in the general direction of the window, showing that in fact I really wasn’t too sure.
    My partner was not too concerned about the details, so he didn’t try and find out more. He always held that kind of strange, easy-going attitude towards me, as he was never too keen to find out about my past or indeed about my present mistakes. “Have you had enough rest? How about one more time, then we’ll go out for something to eat?”
    His warm body touched mine, which for some reason was exuding a cold chill. Suddenly, he exclaimed, “Gosh! how come your body is so cold? Quick, come inside the duvet.”
    Then we embraced in the darkness of that enclosed space, jostling together in a burgeoning passion, rather like the grey mushroom shape on the screen, repeatedly swelling and then contracting like a blossoming flower.
    The reason why I had originally decided to leave the other man is not so clear. But when I think it over now, it might be connected with him telling me a story from his youth.
    “My father was a weak man and a gambler,” he said. “Ever since I started to remember things, I always hated him. In fact, I wasn’t bothered too much about his gambling,....

*	From Lien-ho wen-hsueh 《聯合文學》 (UNITAS—A Literary Monthly), No. 292, February 2009: 160-167.