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...

假如有人送你一支筆，一支不可拆卸的單色鋼筆.

里面究竟有多少墨水看不出。或許在你試探性地寫上幾個(gè)字后它就會(huì)枯干，或許足夠用來(lái)創(chuàng)作一部影響深遠(yuǎn)的不朽巨著(或是幾部)。而這些，在動(dòng)筆前，都是無(wú)法得知的。

在這個(gè)游戲規(guī)則下，你真的永遠(yuǎn)不會(huì)預(yù)知結(jié)果。你只能去碰運(yùn)氣！

事實(shí)上，這個(gè)游戲里沒(méi)有規(guī)則指定你必須要做什么。相反，你甚至可以根本不去動(dòng)用這支筆，把它扔在書架上或是抽屜里讓它的墨水干枯。

但是，如果你決定要用它的話，那么會(huì)用它來(lái)做什幺呢？你將怎么來(lái)進(jìn)行這個(gè)游戲呢?

你會(huì)不寫一個(gè)字，老是計(jì)劃來(lái)計(jì)劃去嗎？你會(huì)不會(huì)由于計(jì)劃過(guò)于宏大而來(lái)不及動(dòng)筆呢?

或者你只是手里拿著筆，一頭扎進(jìn)去寫，不停地寫，艱難地隨著文字洶涌的浪濤而隨波逐流？

你會(huì)小心謹(jǐn)慎的寫字，好象這支筆在下一個(gè)時(shí)刻就可能會(huì)干枯；還是裝作或相信這支筆能夠永遠(yuǎn)寫下去而信手寫來(lái)呢？

并且你又會(huì)寫下些什幺呢：愛(ài)？恨？喜？悲？生？死？虛無(wú)？萬(wàn)物？

你寫作只是為了愉己？還是為了悅?cè)耍恳只蚴墙逄嫒藭鴮懚�愉己�?br />
你的落筆會(huì)是顫抖膽怯的，還是鮮明果敢的？你的想象會(huì)是豐富的還是貧乏的？

甚或你根本沒(méi)有落筆？這是因?yàn)椋�你拿到筆以后，沒(méi)有哪條規(guī)則說(shuō)你必須寫作。也許你要畫素描，亂寫一氣？信筆涂鴉？畫畫？

你會(huì)保持寫在線內(nèi)還是線上，還是根本看不到線，即使有線在那里？嗯，真的有線嗎？

這里面有許多東西值得考慮，不是嗎?

現(xiàn)在，假如有人給予你一支生命的筆...