[Continue]

Two claws with thumbs had just left the black and white piano keys, whilst two ‘claws’ with wolf-claws were just waiting for a few preservative-laden pet treats; the former extended one claw, the latter extended the other claw, and in that instant, the ever-restless thumb and the ever-still wolf-claw brushed lightly past one another; that instant was like a maiden meeting, like an encounter by chance, and yet like a reunion; the ‘edge’ of the wolf’s claw was still the tip of a slender nail —— still as hard as ever —— still exuding the same curved sharpness as the other nails —— still composed of keratin and capillaries —— still growing on a beast’s leg that bore a striking resemblance to that of a grey wolf —— still affectionately called the ‘wolf’s toe’—the solitary ‘wolf’s toe’—— like a ‘wolf’s toe’ that no longer requires a single drop of blood —— like a ‘wolf’s toe’ from which every nerve has long been severed —— like a ‘wolf’s toe’ that has not pierced a spider’s web or a cicada’s wing in the past ten thousand years —— like a ‘wolf’s toe’ that has long since become a mere ornament and superfluous embellishment, whilst the ‘edge’ of the thumb lies in the hollow crevice of the interphalangeal joint —— and within the muscles and ligaments of that crevice —— and within the blood vessels and nerves of that crevice —— and even more so in the folds of skin within that crevice as it bends and stretches; the two “edges” meet, as if the thumb were drawing close to the “wolf’s claw” for the very first time, as if the “wolf’s claw’s” rigid nail were being quietly embraced by the thumb’s gentle joint for the very first time, and even more so as if the thumb were touching its three-million-year-old self for the very first time; the meeting of the two ‘edges’ is like the thumb’s encounter by chance with a ‘wolf’s toe’ that is both like and unlike the thumb; it is also like the ‘wolf’s toe’ being gently embraced by a thumb that is both like and unlike a wolf’s toe; and like a superfluous ‘wolf’s toe’ being, by chance, deeply trusted by a flexible thumb until it becomes a ‘thumb’ that can grasp and hold; the meeting of these two ‘edges’ is like two distant congeners reuniting at a timeless dead angle —— the thumb like the most agile ‘wolf’s toe’ —— and the ‘wolf’s toe’ like the least agile ‘thumb’; it is also like a pair of mortal enemies from three million years ago reuniting in a corner of time —— once slaughtering one another —— now keeping each other company; even more like two comrades-in-arms from ten thousand years ago, silently reuniting in a manner that was once utterly familiar, later utterly estranged, and now utterly bizarre —— the thumb is no longer that ‘thumb’ which once gripped the sled tightly and constantly guided the way —— ‘ nor is the ‘wolf’s toe’ the one that could instantly detect the thumb’s slightest push or pull and the sledge’s faintest sway —— yet this extraordinarily strange ‘grip’ seems merely the thumb’s desire for the ‘wolf’s toe’ to become a ‘finger’ capable of connecting with ‘thinking’…

Thinking from the past ten thousand years —— are they all related with hand-fingers?

Hand-fingers were merely claw-like digits, or claw-fingers…

The thumb of three million years ago was a claw-finger used to hurl branches or fling stones…

The thumb of ten thousand years ago —— was a claw-finger used to pull out wolf teeth or extract snake gall bladders…

The thumb of six thousand years ago —— was a claw-finger used to stack boulders or smelt pure copper…   

The hand-finger that can grab a mobile phone, tap a computer keyboard, or pluck piano keys is still a claw-finger…

Fingers that can bend and stretch, fingers that can grasp and clench, fingers that cannot bend, fingers that cannot stretch, fingers that cannot grasp, fingers with nails, fingers without nails, fingers with fingerprints, fingers without fingerprints, fingers with flexible joints, fingers with stiff joints, fingers with dormant nerves, fingers with atrophied blood vessels, fingers clad in golden armor, fingers clad in plastic armor, fingers fitted with silicone joints, fingers implanted with reasoning chips, fingers stripped of childhood memories, fingers sealed with the origin of life, fingers embedded with the origin of gender, fingers with modified genetic codes, fingers with replaced cell nucleoli, fingers with their windows of love welded shut —— all are claw-fingers…

A hand-shake with hand-fingers and a hand-shake without hand-fingers —— both are claw-shakes…

Thinking that has hand-fingers and thinking without hand-fingers —— are both thinking.

Thinking is like a hand…

Hand-shake is like a dream…

‘Chiang-Chiang’ dreams, and thinks, and possesses accurate and precise intuition, but he never desires —— of the claw becoming a hand  ——  becoming the ‘hand’ of consciousness —— becoming the ‘hand’ of instinct —— becoming the ‘hand’ of senses and perception —— becoming the ‘hand’ of intuition—becoming the ‘hand’ of dream-thinking —— becoming the omnipotent ‘hand’… Unfortunately, there is no ‘hand’ in its dreams—nor an omnipotent ‘hand’ —— nor even a ‘hand’ that coexists with intuition… Could it be that there is a ‘hand’ in my dreams? If there were a ‘hand’, my dreams would surely be chosen by that ‘hand’, pieced together by that ‘hand’, or altered by that ‘hand’… If this were indeed the case, could my ‘claw’ enter my dreams? If it ‘could’, any of my dreams could be actualized at any moment, and I would no longer need ‘dream-thinking’—— nor would I need to ‘dream’ or ‘think… If I no longer need to ‘think’, then my ‘head’, ‘brain’, ‘heart’, ‘consciousness’, ‘instinct’, ‘senses and perceptions’, and ‘intuition’ would all cease to be necessary… In that case, the ‘claw’ is ‘me’, yet ‘I’ am also the ‘hand’, so the ‘hand’ is the ‘claw’—— and the ‘claw’ is the ‘hand’… But do ‘I’ still exist? It turns out that not a single one of 'Chiang-Chiang's' claws has been grasped by me; I extend my thumb to ‘grasp’ his dewclaw —— merely grasping one of his forelegs —— none of his ‘claws’ possess a dewclaw —— his dewclaw has always resided on the leg outside the ‘claw’, and what I desire is ‘shaking hands’ with him —— in fact, ‘grasping the leg’—— that is, ‘grasping a leg with a claw’—— that is, ‘a forelimb grasping a forelimb’—— that is, ‘language grasping language’—— that is, ‘illusion grasping illusion’—— that is, ‘a dream grasping a dream’……

A dream is illusion.

Am I awake?

For ten thousand years, every Chiang-Chiang has never possessed wolf-toes, and never will; he is a dog, rather than a wolf.

Ten thousand years later, all wolf-toes can either be a thumb or a pinky, or alternatively nothing more than a dream.

Even within dreams, the ‘hand’ always comes in two —— always a pair —— always a couple —— always an indivisible whole —— always a harmonious combination—always a flawless and immaculate existence —— always possessing a natural flexibility —— always endowed with an unquestionable grip —— always carrying the potential to create infinite possibilities—always capable of representing ‘me’ or ‘ego’ in making any choice —— always capable of placing ‘me’ or ‘ego’ at a supreme zenith from which all animals and plants are gazed upon from above—always capable of making ‘me’ or ‘ego’ completely disregard any micro-organisms or levitating particles —— always proving that ‘dead angles’ do not exist—always explaining that ‘pain’ ought not to exist—always desiring ‘love’ or ‘love-thinking’ as a ‘handshake’ that must exist and must be perfect and flawless… Every time I shake hands with ‘Chiang-Chiang’, it is as though he is illuding along with me, hesitating as if on the verge of speaking —— pretending to lift a feeble foreleg with great effort—pretending to hover that foreleg excitedly, trembling in mid-air, closer to the ‘hand’—— pretending to be utterly absorbed as the “wolf’s toe” in mid-air waits blankly to be embraced tightly by an impulsive thumb —— pretending to immerse that “wolf’s toe” and the entirety of that foreleg in the passionate waves of a “hand”—— pretending to be intoxicated, allowing that ‘wolf’s toe’ and part of that foreleg to be tenderly grasped and rocked by a ‘hand’—— pretending that the transparent mucus and dense foam flowing from the canine teeth and clinging to the whiskers were merely expressions of a threadbare, string-like sentiment—pretending that gaze, both drifting and deeply cherished, was merely nervously acknowledging a profound affection…

Yet the performance must inevitably come to a halt —— not suspended mid-air or on the ground —— nor in the act of grasping or being grasped —— and certainly not amidst the waves of passion or the bubbles of sentiments —— but rather in the silence of words left unsaid, and in the realization that everything, absolutely everything, exists for the sake of ‘desire’, my forearm will come to a halt —— my thumb will settle into a familiar silence and pause as the next ‘desire’ abruptly surges —— my gaze and his gaze will simultaneously cease their respective drifts, coming to rest in a unified stillness—a stillness so utterly insignificant and utterly unworthy of mention in that single instant—a stillness that quietly converges our respective origins and terminals into a single blind spot —— that ‘stillness’ is both a cryptic language between congeners and a subtle hint between war comrades —— that ‘stillness’ has drifted for ten thousand years yet still rises time and again between two species that are both familiar and unfamiliar —— that ‘stillness’ allows him and me to speak a thousand words within a silent dead angle, and quietly reach a consensus that we shall both honor our promises —— that ‘stillness’ also pierces through the depths of its eyes and its genes, suddenly reaching a gaze from ten thousand years ago…

Think what they thought, pain what they pained, forget what they forgotten, love what they loved, hope what they hoped, stretch what they stretched, echo what they echoed…

[Unfinished. To be Continued]