Jane never gave them direct answers. Instead, she planted a seed in the palm of their hand.
2025.08.24
珍一直知道，清晰是一種恩賜，但她發現，模糊卻是一種更深的祝福。作為「模糊種子的守護者」，她照料那些從未被聚焦的記憶與夢境碎片。她手中的每一顆種子都微微脈動，閃著抗拒銳利邊緣的色彩——玫瑰、琥珀與暮色般的棕。它們嗡嗡作響，如同半遺忘的歌，意義未竟，卻無限暗示。
村民們帶著無法成形的疑問前來。他們帶著凝視舊照片時的惶然，帶著對無名之地的渴望。珍從不給他們直接答案，而是將一顆種子放在他們掌心。「讓它模糊吧，」她低聲說，「讓它變動。」日復一日，種子逐漸溶入他們體內，把不安轉化為一種柔軟且可承受的存在。她深知，而少有人敢領悟的是，清晰往往會刺痛。精確會劃出邊界，將自我與他者、過去與現在分離。然而模糊卻是一種慈悲——它能柔化界線，讓矛盾有呼吸的空間，讓愛流入確定失效的縫隙。
某個夜晚，珍坐在逐漸黯淡的燈籠下，手中捧著一顆顫動異樣的種子。那裡承載著她自己的過去：一張早已失落的面孔，若隱若現。她第一次讓自己將種子吞下。溫暖在胸口蔓延，並非清晰，而是一種閃爍的安慰光暈。那段記憶沒有變得明朗，而是擴展了。她微笑著，明白守護模糊的意義，正是守護慈悲的延續。
Jane had always known that clarity was a gift, but she discovered that obscurity was a deeper blessing. In her role as the Keeper of Blurred Seeds, she tended to fragments of memory and dream that never arrived in focus. Each seed she held pulsed faintly, glowing with colors that resisted sharp edges—rose, amber, and dusk-brown. They hummed like half-forgotten songs, their meaning incomplete yet endlessly suggestive.
Villagers would come to her with questions they could not form into words. They brought her their unsettled feelings, their unease when staring at old photographs, their longing for places they could not name. Jane never gave them direct answers. Instead, she planted a seed in the palm of their hand. “Let it blur,” she whispered. “Let it shift.” Slowly, over days, the seed would dissolve into them, reshaping their uncertainties into something tender and bearable.
What she knew, and few others dared to understand, was that sharpness often wounded. Precision carved borders that divided self from other, past from present. But blur was mercy—it softened the lines, allowed contradictions to breathe, and let love flow into the spaces where certainty had failed.
One evening, Jane sat beneath a fading lantern, holding a seed that trembled differently. It carried her own past: the face of someone she once lost, flickering in and out of sight. For the first time, she let herself swallow the seed. Warmth spread through her chest, not as clarity but as a shimmering haze of comfort. The memory did not sharpen; it expanded. She smiled, knowing the work of keeping blur alive was, above all, to keep compassion alive.
