叢林旅店的女人
The Woman of Jungle Motel
沒有人真正知道她長什麼樣子。
只聽說，每天下午四點半，她會坐在門口，吃著芭樂，抽一根 M 牌香煙，又臭又刺鼻。
人們只記得她的聲音，像鴨子一樣難聽，一邊抽煙一邊呱呱地喊著：「背叛，虛偽。」
沒人知道她姓什麼。只知道她總是戴著一頂牛仔帽，開口只會說一句：
「Hello, welcome to the Jungle。」
據說她的聲音曾經很好聽，是某間知名 pub 的歌手。直到有一次遇上不該遇見的人，在她的喉嚨上留下了一道傷。
也有人說，她只是被一個殘忍的情人騙了，天天哭著等他回來，哭到聲音全毀，只剩下這副破碎的嗓子。
叢林旅店的女人，其實也不算壞。只是有時候會忘東忘西，忘記時間，忘記那些曾經偷走她信任與尊嚴的小偷。
她再也不敢離開這間旅店。每天還在聽那台 90 年代的 S 牌老錄音機，播放著一首歡快的卡農。老破的錄音帶卡卡作響。
房裡悶熱。冷氣嗡嗡地運轉著，空氣中夾雜著陰鬱的臭酸味。
來到這裡的，通常是落魄旅人，口袋裡只剩幾十塊。
這裡到底是叢林，還是旅店？誰也說不準。那些不小心走進來的人，像是誤闖一片凋敗的濕地。濃濁的空氣裡，彷彿飄著什麼腐爛的記憶。腳步變得遲緩，思緒也一點一滴被拖進渾沌。
如果你遇見她，記得說聲嗨。她或許會少收你一筆換床單的費用。
晚安，旅人。願你今晚好眠。
The Woman of Jungle Motel
叢林旅店的女人
No one really knows what she looks like.
People only say that every afternoon at 4:30, she sits by the entrance, eating guava, smoking an M-brand cigarette, foul and sharp to the nose.
All they remember is her voice, awful like a duck's, croaking as she smokes: "Betrayal. Hypocrisy."
No one knows her last name. They only know she always wears a cowboy hat, and the only thing she ever says is:
"Hello, welcome to the Jungle."
They say her voice used to be beautiful, that she was once a singer at a well-known pub. Until one day, she crossed paths with the wrong man, who left a scar across her throat.
Others say she was simply taken in by a cruel lover, crying every day as she waited for him to return, crying until her voice was completely ruined, leaving only this broken voice behind.
The woman of Jungle Motel is not exactly a bad person. Sometimes, she simply forgets things, forgets time, forgets the thieves who once stole her trust and dignity.
She no longer dares to leave this motel. Every day, she still listens to that old S-brand cassette recorder from the 1990s, playing a cheerful canon. The worn-out cassette tape rattles and stutters.
The room is stuffy and hot. The air conditioner hums as it runs, while the air carries a gloomy, sour stench.
Those who come here are usually down-and-out travelers with only a few dozen dollars left in their pockets.
Is this place a jungle, or a motel? No one can really say. Those who accidentally wander in seem to have stumbled into a decaying wetland. In the murky air, something like rotten memory seems to drift. Their footsteps slow down, and their thoughts are dragged, little by little, into a haze.
If you ever meet her, remember to say hi. She might charge you a little less for changing the sheets.
Good night, traveler. May you sleep well tonight.
Image & Story by Eva Y.C. Chen