么么沙，伙同一证券投资者，一银行记者，一证券记者。
在公元2005年6月6日上午，紧紧盯着大盘，为见证一个历史的时刻。。
11：03分，有人惊呼——三位数！三位数！靠！我也见到了三位数！。。
11：04分，又有人惊呼——天哪！看见了吗。。
接着，，，又有人惊呼，呼声一片……
我愣愣的盯住大屏，没有变化，再看，还是没有变化。。才发现，，掉线了！
我，
在这样一个历史的时刻，
预备见证一段历史的时候，，
掉线了！！！

一个人，他的意志可以坚如磐石，而他的心却往往比较软弱。这就表现于他生活中的不断进击和他流露于笔端的无边隐郁。于是我接触不同的人，和他说和他笑，然后又偷偷的看他的文字。然后认为，人可以快乐或者不快乐但总是坚强的活着，而文字却总是忧伤的存在着。

微软博客实在是个让人恐怖的东西，他总是在第一时间提醒你谁谁谁那个你熟悉的朋友今天又有别样的心情，让人悄悄的看过，既而存下了这样那样的心事。
我喜欢这样的偷窥者，因为他们往往更愿意承载很多人的不快，然后在之后的某个时候把快乐带给别人。同时我也无比鄙视这样的偷窥者，在见识了几段文字之后就沾沾自喜，以为真正了解了某某人。其实“文如其人”才是最经不起雕琢的词语。

而相比，我更敬佩那些敢于在朋友面前展露自己的微软博者。这在我，完全需要勇气。
对漫无边际的网络，我丝毫不会胆怯；但我从不敢在朋友面前展览自己的不快。正象我常常在朋友面前失语，在陌生人面前可以狂侃3个小时没有丝毫倦怠一样。人和人就是这么的不同。我们可以交心，可以放松的说了解，但却永远不可能打破之间的壁垒。

没有勇气和胆量，我选择做一个不折不扣的偷窥者。
可是，亲爱的MSN我熟悉的们，你们的文字就这样展现在我的眼底了，文字不要太忧伤，落笔不要太绝望，因为这会给人太多的悲情和压力。。

一个朋友过生日，有些无聊的喧闹。
回家的时候逛了逛商场，感觉很愉快。
晚上回家，没有好看的电视，放《剧院魅影》，没想到眼泪如开闸之水。。之后在眼泪中睡着，就做了这样的破梦：

我到了他的城市，在他的办公室流着眼泪。
他叹着气，说要想开点，我就越发哭的不行。他穿上外套，说出去走走要么。我们一声不响的出门，但我就死死的抓着他的手，他一愣。上了车，他嘱咐我系好安全带，我没听，还是一个劲的流眼泪。他侧过身，帮我拉好系上，我哭得有些绝望。。车玻璃上旋着的Snoopy一晃一晃的。我不知道他带我去什么地方，就知道前面窄窄的巷子，拐进来，拐出去，拐进来，拐出去。。我就死死的抓住他的手。然后他开始安慰我，可我什么都没听见，哭得头痛。
然后我说，去海边吧。他看了我一眼，没说话，奔海边去。
下了车，我还是抓着他的手，对着海直到晚上。很冷。我觉得眼泪都在脸上冻住了。他说回吧。我没说话，拉着他抱了抱，然后说不出话来。接着回转身来，跳进了海里。水好热，灌进了我的耳朵、鼻孔。。

然后我吓醒了，浑身的汗，还有眼泪。
夜里的3：57分。
同时还看到了2：42和2：47的两个未接电话，不知是谁，也不愿意去理会。
去阳台吹吹风，发现忧伤竟是如此的沉重无边——我在尽力做着忘记他的事，可每次，他都那么嚣张的跑到我的梦里提醒着他的存在。特别想发泄下自己的情绪，可我却并不懂得怎样去控制去发泄甚至去任由，一概不懂得。
我能做的只有这样忧伤着，忧伤着让对他的记忆吞噬我的一切。象那首《City of angels》唱的那样绝望：“Spend all your time waiting for that second chance, for a break that would make it ok. There's always one reason to feel not good enough, and it's hard at the end of the day. I need some distraction, beautiful release. Memory seeps from my veins. Let me be empty and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight.  In the arms of an angel, fly away from here, from this dark cold hotel room....”

这不是第一个人这么对我说，但他说的话我信。
遇见BENZ，半夜里，聊了三个半小时。大概的情况，关于工作，关于感情……然后他给我这样的结论。
我小心翼翼的回避心底的伤痛，其实我不是不知道自己痛，而是不想去承认。叶子之前有和我说过，我流着眼泪无话可说。
我还小心翼翼的回避着谈大包，因为大家都是如此熟识，对他未必是好，BENZ说，想得太多了。可关于想得多少，都不是个人所能决定的。
每个人都有软肋，而我就暴露的这么没有保留。
我是想忘了他的，可是我又是非常的不想忘。
BENZ说很多的境遇，说不然跟着他干算了，那刻眼泪都止不住了，当年大包那么信誓旦旦。。

So I lived my life alone, without anyone that I could really talk to, until I had an accident with my plane in the Desert of Sahara, six years ago. Something was broken in my engine. And as I had with me neither a mechanic nor any passengers, I set myself to attempt the difficult repairs all alone. It was a question of life or death for me: I had scarcely enough drinking water to last a week.

The first night, then, I went to sleep on the sand, a thousand miles from any human habitation. I was more isolated than a shipwrecked sailor on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Thus you can imagine my amazement, at sunrise, when I was awakened by an odd little voice.

It said: "If you please, draw me a sheep!"

"What!"

"Draw me a sheep!"

I jumped to my feet, completely thunderstruck. I blinked my eyes hard. I looked carefully all around me. And I saw a most extraordinary small person, who stood there examining me with great seriousness. Here you may see the best potrait that, later, I was able to make of him. But my drawing is certainly very much less charming than its model.
That, however, is not my fault. The grown-ups discouraged me in my painter's career when I was six years old, and I never learned to draw anything, except boas from the outside and boas from the inside.

Now I stared at this sudden apparition with my eyes fairly starting out of my head in astonishment. Remember, I had crashed in the desert a thousand miles from any inhabited region. And yet my little man seemed neither to be straying uncertainly among the sands, nor to be fainting from fatigue or hunger or thirst or fear. Nothing about him gave any suggestion of a child lost in the middle of the desert, a thousand miles from any human habitation.

When at last I was able to speak, I said to him: "But, what are you doing here?" And in answer he repeated, very slowly, as if he were speaking of a matter of great consequence:

"If you please, draw me a sheep..."

When a mystery is too overpowering, one dare not disobey. Absurd as it might seem to me, a thousand miles from any human habitation and in danger of death, I took out of my pocket a sheet of paper and my fountain-pen. But then I remembered how my studies had been concentrated on geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar, and I told the little chap (a little crossly, too) that I did not know how to draw. He answered me: "That doesn't matter. Draw me a sheep..." But I had never drawn a sheep. So I drew for him one of the two pictures I had drawn so often. It was that of the boa constrictor from the outside. And I was astounded to hear the little fellow greet it with, "No, no, no! I do not want an elephant inside a boa constrictor. A boa constrictor is a very dangerous creature, and an elephant is very cumbersome. Where I live, everything is very small. What I need is a sheep. Draw me a sheep.

So then I made a drawing. He looked at it carefully, then he said: "No. This sheep is already very sickly. Make me another." So I made another drawing. My friend smiled gently and indulgenty. "You see yourself," he said, "that this is not a sheep. This is a ram. It has horns.

So then I did my drawing over once more. But it was rejected too, just like the others. "This one is too old. I want a sheep that will live a long time.

By this time my patience was exhausted, because I was in a hurry to start taking my engine apart. So I tossed off this drawing. And I threw out an explanation with it.

"This is only his box. The sheep you asked for is inside."

I was very surprised to see a light break over the face of my young judge:

"That is exactly the way I wanted it! Do you think that this sheep will have to have a great deal of grass?"

"Why?"

"Because where I live everything is very small..."

"There will surely be enough grass for him," I said.

"It is a very small sheep that I have given you."

He bent his head over the drawing: "Not so small that, Look! He has gone to sleep..."

And that is how I made the acquaintance of the little prince.