Suppose someone gave you a pen - a sealed, solid-colored pen.

    You couldn't see how much ink it had.

    It might run dry after the first few tentative words or last just long enough to create a masterpiece （or several） that would last forever and make a difference in the scheme of things.

    You don't know before you begin.

    Under the rules of the game, you really never know.

    You have to take a chance!

    Actually, no rule of the game states you must do anything. Instead of picking up and using the pen, you could leave it on a shelf or in a drawer where it will dry up, unused.

    But if you do decide to use it, what would you do with it? How would you play the game?

    Would you plan and plan before you ever wrote a word?

    Would your plans be so extensive that you never even got to the writing?

    Or would you take the pen in hand, plunge right in and just do it, struggling to keep up with the twists and turns of the torrents of words that take you where they take you?

    Would you write cautiously and carefully, as if the pen might run dry the next moment, or would you pretend or believe （or pretend to believe） that the pen will write forever and proceed accordingly?

    And of what would you write: Of love? Hate? Fun? Misery? Life? Death? Nothing? Everything?

    Would you write to please just yourself? Or others? Or yourself by writing for others?

    Would your strokes be tremblingly timid or brilliantly bold? Fancy with a flourish or plain?

    Would you even write? Once you have the pen, no rule says you have to write. Would you sketch? Scribble? Doodle or draw?

    Would you stay in or on the lines, or see no lines at all, even if they were there? Or are they? There's a lot to think about here, isn't there?

    Now, suppose someone gave you a life…

    假設(shè)有人給了你一枝筆，一枝密封的、純色的水筆，

    里面有多少墨水你看不到。

    很可能剛剛試寫幾字便用干耗盡；也可能足以完成一部或幾部杰作，永存于世，使世事為之大變。

    而這一切你在動(dòng)筆之前卻是一無所知。

    根據(jù)游戲的規(guī)則，你確實(shí)永遠(yuǎn)也不會(huì)知道，

    只能冒一下險(xiǎn)。

    而事實(shí)上，也沒有規(guī)則說你就一定要做些什么。你大可以把筆擱在架子上、放在抽屜里，棄置不用，任墨水蒸發(fā)干凈。

    然而，如果你真的決定使用，你會(huì)做什么？怎么來做這個(gè)游戲？

    你會(huì)左計(jì)劃、右計(jì)劃，然后才慢慢下筆嗎？

    計(jì)劃會(huì)不會(huì)太泛太多，根本就達(dá)不到寫作這一步？

    會(huì)不會(huì)提筆在手，迫不及待地投入其中，任由手中的筆、筆下的字帶著你在詞海中上下翻騰、左突右沖？

    會(huì)不會(huì)下筆謹(jǐn)小慎微，似乎墨水隨時(shí)都將干涸？會(huì)不會(huì)假裝或相信、或假裝相信筆中墨水永不會(huì)枯竭，任你揮灑？

    你會(huì)寫些什么？愛情？仇恨？樂趣？痛苦？生命？死亡？虛無空空抑或世事萬種？

    是會(huì)用來自娛？還是取悅他人？還是為人寫作而愉悅自身？

    你的一筆一劃會(huì)顫抖怯懦還是亮麗大膽？花里胡哨還是樸實(shí)無華？

    你確實(shí)會(huì)去寫嗎？你一旦有了這枝筆，卻也沒有規(guī)則說你一定就要去寫。你會(huì)粗粗寫來？潦潦草草？信手涂鴉？還是認(rèn)真描畫？

    你會(huì)寫在線里還是寫在線上，或者對(duì)紙上的線格根本就視而不見？真的有什么線格嗎？此時(shí)此刻，有很多東西值得思考，不是嗎？

    那么，假設(shè)有人給了你一次生命……