有关日落的朝圣

2018 Feb 7, Casablanca, Morocco <ENGLISH>

我们是在日落时分碰上哈桑二世清真寺的。

我这里的“碰”意思很浅显。我们并未在寻找它，我们只是恰好选择了步行，恰好走在西南的方向，恰好在寻找Rick’s Café（那应该是每一个憧憬过电影里的白城卡萨布兰卡的人想往的朝圣地）的路上瞟见了远方刚建设完的商业区，恰好那商业区靠近了海岸线，恰好向往东岸大西洋的日落，也恰好在日落时分走上沿着海岸的那片开阔的步行道。

我们在海岸线上停留了很久，久到那边歇息的海鸥已经更新了好几次身份，久到夜晚已开始洗涤白日里悬浮的杂音和弥漫的光颗粒，久到阳光的温度已经开始从衣料上褪去。

燕子说我们往那边走走吧，站在这儿好凉。她说着拽出背包里的大披肩，裹粽子一样甩到肩上，而后迈出向西南方的步伐。那里是卡萨布兰卡海岸线上正在修建的高端商区，商户还未入住，入夜后有如弃城，留着零星几盏灯，走着零星几个人。沿岸跨越栏杆的地方堆砌着巨型的石质船锚模型，几何体间搭建出供海风、猫和热恋中的情侣藏匿的空隙。往后那天的经历让我不得不为那对在哈桑二世清真寺前忘情亲吻而被驱逐的白人情侣感到叹息——那船锚间入乡随俗的恋爱场所估摸着应该不为他们所知。我也曾在浓雾的清晨见证过威尼斯圣马可广场前凝固掉时间的亲吻，可这穆斯林国家船锚间的爱情也多了一份禁忌感和违禁的快感，仿佛初高中时期躲躲藏藏小心翼翼却深刻地在记忆里留下痕迹的爱情。

就是在太阳消逝的那几个片刻我们碰上了清真寺。像De Chirico那副被赤裸上身的男人占满的画闯进坐在巴黎公交上的Andre Breton的视野一样，那清真寺闯进我们的视线空间，堆叠的絮状云层从大西洋远方延伸而来试图吞灭陆地，那行动却在清真寺的上方戛然而止，露出蓝紫色向橙黄过度的天空，仿佛真主拨开天幕砸下那幢建筑：它撞在地面上，也撞在我们处理视觉信号的大脑皮层里，那海天连成一片的景象在那清真寺处戛然而止。天空和海横向的能量撞击着清真寺处垂直于地心而上的纵向能量，混杂着黄昏的颜色制造出一幅略有些超现实的图景。

那时的我不知道用怎样的词形容莫名从心头冒出的敬畏感，尽管我不是穆斯林，尽管我不信教，可那个名为“AWE”的感情却来得确确实实，甚至夹杂某种“狂喜”(ECSTASY)。我一直没有找到过中文里相对应AWE和ECSTASY最好的翻译，不论是“敬畏”或是“狂喜”，都似乎要带上另一个限定或发展式的状语才能记录我的感受。

后来当我在读毛姆的《面纱》时，我看到了这样一段描写：那是对Kitty在某个清晨看到梅潭府（那个虚构的南中国偏僻小镇）里用作西方支援大本营的教堂的刻画。

“The morning drew on and the sun touched the mist so that it shone whitely like the ghost of snow on a dying star. Though on the river it was light so that you could discern palely the lines of the crowded junks and the thick forest of their masts, in front it was a shining wall the eye could not piece. But suddenly from that white cloud a tall, grim and massive bastion emerged. It seemed not merely to be made visible by the all-discovering sun but rather to rise out of nothing at the touch of a magic wand. It towered, the stronghold of a cruel and barbaric race, over the river. But the magician who built worked swiftly and now a fragment of colored wall crowned the bastion; in a moment, out of the mist, looming vastly and touched here and there by a yellow ray of sun, there was seen a cluster of green and yellow roofs. Huge they seemed and you could make out no pattern; the order, if order there was, escaped you; wayward and extravagant, but of an unimaginable richness. This was no fortress, nor a temple, but the magic palace of some emperor of the gods where no man might enter. It was too airy, fantastic and unsubstantial to be the work of human hands; it was the fabric of a dream.

The tears ran down Kitty’s face and she gazed, her hands clasped to her breast and her mouth, for she was breathless, open a little. She had never felt so light of heart and it seemed to her as though her body were a shell that lay at her feet and she pure spirit. Here was Beauty. She took it as the believer takes in his mouth the wafer which is God.

…

The hard light of midday had robbed the magic palace of its mystery and now it was no more than a temple on the city wall, garish and shabby, but because she had seen it once in such an ecstasy it was never again quite commonplace; and often at dawn or at dusk, and again at night, she found herself able to recapture something of that beauty.”

在洛杉矶生活了两年半，我只在日出和日落时分感受得到对这座城市的喜爱。这两个时刻充满了仪式感甚至宗教感的气氛：我喜欢混杂着互不相同却完美融合的颜色的天空，也许这也是我中意Cuyp的画作的原因，这个荷兰籍的画家将意大利式史诗般浓艳的色彩混入了平凡的乡村小景，那中混合的错位的美感有如日出日落时的天空——只是平淡无奇的日子里的一片天空也可以化作调色盘。也或许，我们对日出日落的喜爱来自于惋惜，来自于它转瞬即逝的生命：它们终究是一个发生，而非状态，它的出生即是死亡，它的死亡也是新生。

那天过后我又去过两次哈桑二世清真寺。我见到了那有名的朝向大西洋的镂空窗口，见证了可打开采光的屋顶，见到了那精致的伊斯兰艺术精髓马赛克，也见到了错综复杂的内饰木雕。但那清真寺再也没有一个瞬间让我由衷的感受到它的神圣。

那个黄昏的所有也就随着2017年12月26日的太阳一起落进了感官记忆的巢穴，等待下一个唤醒它的夕阳。