In one particular commission, Jane was asked to reconstruct the final conversation between two estranged brothers. The footage, degraded and incomplete, showed only blurred outlines and indecipherable murmurs.
2025.06.18
珍總是以層次的方式觀看世界——不只是比喻上的，而是真實的。她天生患有一種罕見的神經狀況，使她的視覺將現實折射成重疊的維度。大多數人認為這是一種缺陷，但珍稱之為她的「檔案」。在某些圈子裡，她被稱作「雙重見證者」，是一位能觀察到影像之間隱藏真相的人。當他人信任事件的單一版本時，珍看到的是交錯的回聲——微笑背後的動作、語言之前的遲疑。在大多數人捕捉片刻的肖像中，珍能讀出意圖、遺憾與渴望。這讓她成為歷史重建與記憶審判中最受重視的證人。
某次，她受委託重構一對失和兄弟之間最後的對話。原始影像破損模糊，只剩輪廓與難以辨認的低語。但對珍而言，雙重曝光不是缺陷，而是自白。她追蹤肩膀的緊繃變化、未說出口的影子語句，拼湊出一段從未被錄下、卻真實存在於空隙中的對話。
她的委託人稱之為魔法。珍則稱之為傾聽。
但珍知道，這份天賦有其代價。她越深入交錯的時間線，就越難將自己錨定於其中一條。鏡中影像搖曳不定，聲音開始重疊。某天，她看見另一個自己——年長、堅定，雙眼空洞卻滿載知曉。他們不曾交談，只是靜靜地彼此凝視。
對珍而言，真相從不是單一的。它是層疊的，如同一幅未完成畫作中模糊的臉，或記憶即將消散的剎那。
她從不追求清晰，她見證模糊。
Jane had always seen the world in layers—not just metaphorically, but literally. Born with a rare neurological condition, her vision refracted reality into overlapping dimensions. Most saw it as a flaw. Jane, however, called it her archive.
She became known in certain circles as the Double Witness, an observer of truths hidden between frames. Unlike others who trusted a single version of events, Jane saw the interlaced echoes—the gesture beneath the smile, the second thought behind the first word. Where most portraits captured a moment, Jane’s layered perception revealed intent, regret, longing. It made her the most sought-after testimony in historical reenactments and memory trials.
In one particular commission, Jane was asked to reconstruct the final conversation between two estranged brothers. The footage, degraded and incomplete, showed only blurred outlines and indecipherable murmurs. But to Jane, the dual exposure wasn’t a flaw—it was a confession. She traced the shift in shoulder tensions, the stuttered shadows of words unspoken, and reconstructed a dialogue that had never been recorded but had always existed in the space between.
Her clients called it magic. Jane called it listening.
Yet, Jane knew her gift came at a cost. The more she peered into overlapping timelines, the harder it became to anchor herself to a single one. Mirrors wavered, voices overlapped. One day, she glimpsed a version of herself—older, more resolute, eyes hollow with knowing. They did not speak. They simply watched each other.
For Jane, the truth wasn’t singular. It was layered, like the blurred face in an unfinished painting, or the moment just before a memory fades.
She didn’t chase clarity. She bore witness to the blur.
