2025.10.03
珍，如今被稱為遺忘語言的守護者，擁有一種奇異的天賦：她能聽見早已被遺忘的語言低語。當別人只看見模糊的刻痕、消散的符號、逐漸消逝的文字時，她卻能感受到完整的句子，如霧氣般浮現。對珍而言，每一道殘跡都是活的——它們承載著一個民族的呼吸、一段祈禱的寂靜，或是一首搖籃曲的節奏。
她遊走於廢墟圖書館、倒塌的神殿與破碎的城牆間，收集著他人視為塵埃的東西。她的行囊裡裝的不是書籍，而是她在石片與褪色手稿中捕捉到的低語。她從不將其大聲讀出，因為她相信那些聲音正在沉睡，等待正確的時刻甦醒。某個傍晚，在一座殘破堡壘的空洞裡，珍將手按在幾乎被時間吞噬的牆壁上。起初，什麼都沒有。接著，一陣低鳴。那些痕跡看似難以辨認，模糊而抗拒，但她感覺到意義在表面之下震動。漸漸地，一個單詞浮現：「家。」淚水湧上她的眼眶——那並非她的，而是曾在此刻劃、唱、哭泣過的無數聲音的眼淚。
珍這才明白，她的角色不是去解讀，而是去記住。她不是翻譯者，而是容器，讓古老的聲音再次透過她的身體回響。每一道模糊的痕跡都成了她的呼吸，融入她步伐的節奏中。
別人看見的是廢墟，珍感受到的是存在。別人聽到的是沉默，她卻聽見合唱。透過對這些消逝文字的靜默守護，她建構出一座無形的檔案館——不是書籍與文物的收藏，而是共鳴的延續。
珍並非將語言當作遺物守護，她將它們當作活著的夥伴，一同前行。
Jane, now known as the Keeper of Forgotten Tongues, had a strange gift: she could hear the murmur of words long erased from memory. Where others saw only faint scratches, blurred inscriptions, and vanishing symbols, she felt whole sentences rising like mist. To Jane, every fragment was alive—each carried the breath of a people, the silence of a prayer, or the rhythm of a forgotten lullaby.
She wandered through ruined libraries, broken temples, and crumbling city walls, collecting what others dismissed as dust. Her satchel was filled not with books, but with whispers she trapped in shards of stone and fading manuscripts. She never read them aloud, for she believed voices slept inside, waiting for the right moment to awaken.
One evening, in the hollow of a ruined fortress, Jane pressed her hand against a wall nearly dissolved by time. At first, nothing. Then, a low hum. The marks seemed illegible, their shapes blurred and resistant, but she could feel meaning vibrating beneath the surface. Slowly, a single word formed: “Home.” Tears welled in her eyes—not her own, but belonging to the countless voices that had once carved, sung, and wept here.
Jane realized then that her role was not to decipher but to remember. She was less an interpreter than a vessel, allowing ancient voices to echo once more through her body. Each blurred mark became part of her own breath, woven into the rhythm of her steps.
Where others found ruin, Jane found presence. Where others felt silence, she felt chorus. And in her quiet devotion to these vanishing words, she built an invisible archive—one not of books or artifacts, but of resonances.
Jane did not guard languages as relics. She carried them forward as living companions.
