4月8日（水）

カレンが書いた燈里の日記
Today for the first time in weeks, the sun came out and seemed to melt everyone's anxiety away. People were less reluctant to gather and social distances seemed to shrink. Not that this is a particularly good thing, maybe only an indicator of how sunlight affects people's moods. I began the day at maybe the peak of its beauty - around noon when the sun was its brightest and a light breeze blew through the living room windows circulating the smell of the lilies through the rest of the house. I should get some more this weekend. As I made my coffee, Weihung and Cullen worked outside and the sound of the Beatles' "Blackbird" wafted in through the window. Bisco seemed to be singing along. As I worked on the dining room table the light shifted and faded, reaching a climax around 9:30, drenching the house golden before disappearing for the day. By now we began to focus on artificial lights, as friends and roommates filtered back into the house. I lit candles as we opened some beers and listened to disco. We looked for the fairy lights but couldn't locate any of them. Instead I brought down the traditional lantern Seda had brought back from Tainan that I had been keeping in my room, causing my closet to look like a ramen shop. I hung it in the centre of the ceiling and we marveled at how soft a light of cast onto the room. Weihung suddenly became fixated on the idea of lighting fireworks he had uncovered in the search for the fairy lights. Not in particular celebration of anything, it was a typical Thursday night. Perhaps just an expression of how special it was to still be able to gather and chat with disco in the background. That's enough to celebrate. In the end we became too preoccupied with Bisco who we had lost track of while chatting to follow through with the fireworks. I sent a package today and Weihung received one. What I sent was a collection of emergency previsions for my parents including masks, rubbing alcohol, chocolates, and a list of activities to encourage them to stay inside but remain active. Knowing them, though, I don't expect them to take my recommendations, it was worth a shot. What Weihung received was two lights. Bathroom lights. Since the bulb had blown out a few weeks ago, we'd grown accustomed to bathing and sanitizing in the dark or by candlelight. And we'll continue to. The bulb didn't fit. Today I became aware that lately two themes have become very pronounced in my life: light and for some reason birds. They appear with the same symbolic strength as dream imagery. Loaded with some hidden meaning that evokes language. What am I to make of this? Once again I felt like Yoshimoto / Murakami's protagonists, where dreams leak into their reality and by the end they're unable to distinguish waking life from dreamed life. I wonder if it is possible for images to appear in waking life with the same symbolic importance as in a novel. Perhaps the narrator is subtly trying to illustrate a point. Or perhaps I'm reading too much into this.

燈里が書いたカレンの日記
リビングに白百合の生花と珈琲の香りが広がった。13時。燈里が起きて活動を始めた合図だ。窓を開け放って外を見上げると、庭の大木の葉の隙間から太陽が見えた。台北が晴れるのは2週間ぶりだ。リビングには木漏れ日が差し込んでいる。「木漏れ日」は他の言語にはない単語だ。漏れるような光にいつも惹かれ、そこに無限性を感じる。フィンランドの長い冬では太陽が見られず一日中暗い。そこに灯される蝋燭の灯火、真っ黒の空を一瞬切り裂くオーロラの光。朝、薄暗い部屋に灯される石炭ストーブの赤い火の滲む明かり。珈琲を淹れるためにガスコンロに火をつける、そのヤカンの下の青い炎。夜カーテンの隙間から差し込む道のネオンライト。夜の雪道に1本伸びる自転車のヘッドライト。湖に反射した街灯。私を見上げたファンの濡れた瞳に映った月光。ほとんど完全な暗闇の中の小さな煌めきは希望に満ちている。
ウェイホンがビートルズの"Free as a Bird"を歌いながら家を歩き回っている。ビスコが歌詞に合わせて嘴を動かした。ビスコをリビングに放ち、シャワーを浴びていたらまたいなくなってしまった。濡れた髪にパンツ1枚で探し回った。“Free as a bird. Home, home and dry. Like a homing bird, I'll fly as a bird on wings." この歌詞でニュージャージー州にいる母に朝電話したことを思い出した。私の名前と母の姓は同じだ。母が呼ばれた時、自分が呼ばれたのだと思い、自分の名前が呼ばれる時母を思う。自宅隔離期間の今、母はピアノを練習したり、スーパーマーケットの仕事に応募しているらしい。今いるアパートを売り払い、大学時代からの友人と一緒にルームシェアするための引っ越し中だそうだ。私達の共同生活と同じだ。母が私の一番の理解者だ。どんなにお互いのhomeが離れていても。今は飛行機に乗れないが、母は台北からニュージャージーまでの12249kmを越えて暗闇を照らす灯火だ。
23時に燈里とダイニングで話していたら、マイケルが2階から降りてきた。マイケルの話題の振り方はいつも唐突だ。"What's your spiritual animal?" 私のspiritual animalはオオハシ、燈里はメンフクロウ、どちらも鳥だ。
ビートルズは"Free as a Bird"の他にもう1曲鳥の歌を出している。"Blackbird"だ。"Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly. Into the light of a dark black night. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free." 作詞したポール・マッカートニーはアメリカ南部の黒人女性をblackbirdに擬えたと語っており、70年代のアフリカ系アメリカ人女性の解放や人権運動のテーマ曲として広く歌われた。傷付いた翼を持って闇の中の光を目指して飛ぶ鳥は私達でもある。アフリカ系アメリカ人女性達の社会運動、そこから生まれた音楽や詩。現代の私達が学べることは多すぎて計り知れない。その中の1つは連帯であり、共に抵抗し闘うことだ。博士課程で文学と障害学を研究するAmy Gaetaがコロナに際して寄稿した記事を今日読んだ。"Amid this pandemic, more than I’ve ever in my life, I see how much nondisabled people need the disabled community...We know how to live vulnerably, which is to live together." 現在の世界情勢によって、私達は誰もが病人や患者や障害者になる可能性がある。誰もがvulnerableにならざるをえない。自分の弱さを知ること。間合いや#stayhomeを守り安全を維持しながら、私達はどうやって他者と自由で創造的な関係を再構築するか。包括的なコミュニティを作るのか。そこでどんなコミュニケーションを立ち上げ支え合えるのか。今だからこそ模索したい。
フィンランドの大学の特別支援教育の先生が授業でLeonard Cohenの詩を引いていた。"There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in." あなたのヒビから差し込む光が私を照らしてくれる。"Love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.” 苦しみや孤独や痛みの中にある私達にハレルヤは降る。