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?
事实上，这个游戏里没有规则指定你必须要做什么。相反，你甚至可以根本不去动用这支笔，把它扔在书架上或是抽屉里让它的墨水干枯。 但是，如果你决定要用它的话，那么你会用它来做什幺呢？你将怎幺来进行这个游戏呢？你会不写一个字，老是计划来计划去吗？你会不会由于计划过于宏大而来不及动笔呢？或者你只是手里拿着笔，一头扎进去写，不停地写，艰难地随着文字汹涌的浪涛而随波逐流？ 你会小心谨慎的写字，好象这支笔在下一个时刻就可能会干枯；还是装做或相信这支笔能够永远写下去而信手写来呢？
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 tremblinglytimid 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...