Creekside Notes

The curtain was down, lights were off. I just stepped out of the theatre but the two boys were still singing Consider Yourself in my mind, and the music still echoing in my ear. I sat on the bus back home, but I still indulged myself in that story — Oliver and his friends occupied my mind for the rest of the evening. That’s the power of music theatre. I entered it with a ticket, but when the show ended, I could still bring the theatre home — its melodies and feelings and stories. At the end it was the emotion that registered in my mind and recorded in my memory. Some musicals struck me with a chandelier crashing from the ceiling — I surrendered even before the story truly started. Some drew me in with the slow gleam of a razor, unease building before I understood why. Some made me feel inevitable — when the girl died in the arms of the boy she secretly loved but who never loved her back, and the music together with the duet melted my heart. These are not the same experience. They are ...

  Scams usually start when and where everything seems normal. Like the latte you sip in a café halfway up a hill, mountain view through a big window. My friend talked about her newly-encountered online friend — a sunny, masculine guy with nice teeth, 28 Facebook connections, a few photos, mostly selfies. She was pleased that someone seemed to care for her. I was suspicious. “Are you sure he just wants to be friends?” “Yes, he never asked to borrow money.” “Did you mean he never inquired about your financial status?” My friend hesitated a bit. “Oh, he asked if I own properties or have investments.” “And what did you say?” “I lied. Since I don’t know him well, I said I live in a small apartment and still owe a financial company a big loan.” “Excellent answer. You protected yourself well. Yet I think your new friend will disappear soon enough.” A few weeks later, my friend told me that the sunny guy got distant and then disappeared completely. My friend still doesn’t think it was a sc...

  第一章：排練室 倫敦柯芬園午後的排練室，空氣裡散著一種混合了松香、汗水與地板蠟的氣味。 林藝生提早到了。門還沒開，他站在走廊，聽見裡面拖把劃過地面的水聲，沉重而潮濕。 幾天前他去參加朋友的婚禮。席間有人問起華沙，他只淡淡說了一句：「沒進決賽。」 其實那已經是他三次參加蕭邦大賽以來最好的成績。他進了第三輪，離決賽只差一道門。 婚禮結束前，新郎倌拜託他代幾天芭蕾舞團排練時的鋼琴伴奏。對方要去度蜜月，原本的排練又不能停。林藝生沒做過這種工作，想了想，答應了。 這是他「上班」的第三天。 婚禮的照片還放在他公寓餐桌上。華沙的行李箱也還躺在角落。 手裡這本《堂吉訶德》的譜，是新郎倌臨走前塞給他的，有點舊，紙頁邊緣已經捲了起來，卻給他一種久違的新鮮感。 門開了，清潔人員對他點點頭。他走進室內，那架黑色的山葉鋼琴已經敞開琴蓋，灰塵在挑高窗戶射入的光柱裡飄浮。他走過去，並沒有立刻坐下，而是用手掌輕輕撫過琴鍵，像是確認一個熟悉的老友是否還在原處。 舞者們陸續進來。室內開始充滿舞鞋摩擦木地板的沙沙聲，以及伸展時紗裙擺動那種極細微的聲響。林藝生在這些雜音中坐定，自然地在琴鍵上彈奏音階與琶音，進行手指的暖身運動。他的肩膀是鬆弛的，呼吸隨著旋律的延展而起伏。 舞團督導亞歷山大出現時，並沒有伴隨任何腳步聲。他只是「出現」了，穿著一件洗得發白的深色針織衫，雙手插在口袋裡，那種權威的精確感讓原本喧鬧的排練室瞬間安靜下來。他對林藝生點了點頭，沒有寒暄。 「從 Kitri 的獨舞開始。」亞歷山大的指令簡短得近乎吝嗇。 林藝生落下第一個和弦。那是《堂吉訶德》第一幕的音樂，活潑、明亮。 他的身體狀態很自然，呼吸不自覺地跟著舞者的起跳與落地同步。 在某個舞者騰空起跳前，他敏銳地捕捉到對方膝蓋微小的蓄力動作，手指本能地將那個和弦微微延長了不到半秒。舞者因此在空中多停留了一瞬，落地時乾淨俐落，像是一片羽毛精準地踩在了節拍上。 這是一種毫秒級的對話。 在這裡，他的耳朵不僅連接了樂譜，也連接了舞者的身體。 有人在連續轉圈時失誤了，重心不穩地笑了出來。林藝生沒有停下來，而是順勢讓琴聲變輕、變透亮，給了她重新找回平衡的呼吸空間。 「他今天的節奏比昨天好。」一個舞者在擦汗的間隙對同伴耳語，林藝生聽到了，但他沒有抬頭。 排練結束，舞者們三三兩兩地散開伸展、喝水。林藝生留在琴凳上，原本輕快的節奏在手指慣性下突然轉向...