Jane did not judge these absences. She believed they were not failures, but alternative histories that continued quietly, parallel to the visible world.
2026.01.18
珍成為了消失瞬間的安靜登記員，這是一個沒有人申請、也沒有人辭職的角色。她不收集記憶本身，而是收集記憶之間的停頓——那些猶豫、那些幾乎說出口的話、那些從未找到語言的感受。這些碎片像看不見的花粉一樣在世界中漂浮，而只有珍能感覺到它們緩慢的累積。
每天傍晚，她行走在時間變薄的空間裡，在那裡，昨天與明天過於靠近地擠在一起。在這樣的地方，她能感受到未完成生命的微弱壓力：一個從未實現的承諾、一封從未寄出的信、一條從未選擇的道路。珍不評判這些缺席。她相信它們不是失敗，而是安靜延續的平行歷史。她學會用整個身體去傾聽。沉默像霧一樣在她周圍變得濃厚，而在其中她感知到細微的轉變——形成又消散的小型內在氣候系統。她理解，人類的身分不僅由行動建構，也同樣由未完成之事所塑造。未被選擇的事物，與被選擇的事物一樣深刻地形塑一個人。
夜裡，珍不以書寫記錄任何東西。相反地，她像排列星座一樣安排自己的思想，讓意義保持些微失焦。她相信，精確本身可能是一種暴力。過於清楚地命名某物，就是將它凍結。她的工作需要柔軟，需要願意站立在不確定之中。
隨著時間推移，珍意識到她自己也正在成為她所登記的事物之一。她的某些部分輕柔地滑離了定義。她既不感到失落，也不感到恐懼。她想，也許變得不完整，才是最誠實的存在方式。
Jane had become the Quiet Registrar of vanishing moments, a role no one applied for and no one resigned from. She did not collect memories themselves, but the pauses between them—the hesitations, the almost-spoken words, the sensations that never found language. These fragments drifted through the world like invisible pollen, and Jane alone sensed their slow accumulation.
Each evening, she walked through spaces where time felt thinned, where yesterday and tomorrow pressed too closely together. In such places, she could feel the faint pressure of unfinished lives: a promise never kept, a letter never sent, a path never chosen. Jane did not judge these absences. She believed they were not failures, but alternative histories that continued quietly, parallel to the visible world.
She learned to listen with her whole body. Silence thickened around her like fog, and within it she perceived delicate shifts—small internal weather systems forming and dissolving. She understood that human identity was not built only from actions, but equally from what remained undone. The unchosen shaped a person as deeply as the chosen.
At night, Jane recorded nothing in writing. Instead, she arranged her thoughts like constellations, letting meanings remain slightly out of focus. Precision, she believed, could be a form of violence. To name something too clearly was to freeze it. Her work required softness, a willingness to stand inside uncertainty.
Over time, Jane realized she herself was becoming one of the things she registered. Parts of her slipped gently out of definition. She felt neither loss nor fear. To become incomplete, she thought, might be the most honest way to exist.
