两年前我的弟弟十岁，他放学回家，刚打开门，就听见熟悉的爆炸声从他身后刚刚离开的街上响起。五分钟后坐在电视机前，他看到了他的朋友在满是伤者和残肢断臂的街上茫然地徘徊。朋友的父亲刚把他从学校接出来还带他去吃了比萨饼，现在就眼睁睁地被杀死了。我弟弟拒绝谈论这件事。“这个小孩并不真是我的朋友，”他老那么说，“我跟他真的不是很熟。”那天晚上，他跟我父亲说他害怕弗莱迪·克鲁格，这个人物是一部大家都熟悉的恐怖片里的杀人恶魔。我父亲不知道是该笑还是该哭，但我猜想他感到了某种宽慰。抚摸着孩子的头发告诉他克鲁格并非真的存在，这种感觉有多棒。
然而，那个在繁忙的街道中央将自身引爆的人确实存在。而那个几年后将要在我们另一条繁忙街道上引爆自己的人现在正是我弟弟的年纪。他的母亲无需担心潜伏在上学路上的危险，因为根本就不再有学校，在我们破坏巴勒斯坦基础设施时已经将学校全部摧毁了。他的弟弟在我们的战士炸毁他们家时死去了。我们的战士炸毁他们家是因为他的哥哥是个被通缉的要犯。我们用炸毁他家屋子这个办法来确保他那位哥哥能很快从一个被通缉的要犯变为没人要的尸体，被炸成了千百片，旁边都是因他而受害的人。
这个未来的小恐怖分子现在就睡在联合国难民救济及工程局提供的帐篷里。他害怕什么呢？再也没多少令他害怕的了，最糟糕的事情已经发生。然而，推土机仍然在周围拆除邻居家的屋子。每天都有几顶新的帐篷加入到这种未开化的生活中来。他的母亲告诉他，1967年他们是如何被驱逐出在拉特伦的家的。他的姥姥告诉他，1948年她被从雅法赶出来，怀抱着他那当时刚出生不久哇哇直哭的母亲，现在的情况比起那时经历的一切算不了什么。
我的祖母不了解自己所处的境况。她在兴起的纳粹主义肆虐欧洲时以难民的身份逃离了波兰，之后她从未想过要重返那里的家。她说，巴勒斯坦人仍在谈论雅法只是说明了他们想消灭我们。每当我们城市发生一起自杀性爆炸，我祖母就会打电话跟我讲她的秘密计划。“我是个老太婆，没有什么放不下的。”她以阴谋策划的语气说道，“我穿上他们女人那样的破衣服，到纳布卢斯市中心去引爆自己，给他们个教训，让他们看看这像什么样子。”我试图告诉她他们已经知道这像什么样子，告诉她他们的死亡人数比我们多三倍，告诉她我们在他们生活中播撒的害怕和恐怖要比我们自己生活中的多得多。但祖母听不见我的话，因为她在哭。“他们不是人，”她说，“什么人会做这样的事，像这样杀孩子？”没有人性的人，我想回答，但我没有张嘴，心里想着我那不想生养的孩子。
我不想生养的这个孩子将永远不会为自己成为占领者而感到有罪，也不会为自己可能成为受害者而感到害怕。我将永远不用告诉他不要怕，尽管害怕是现在唯一合乎理性的感受。我将不必教导他巴勒斯坦孩子也是像他一样的人，而其他所有人都会告诉他并非如此。这个我不想生养的孩子将蜷缩在我的大脑内一个秘密角落里一直睡大觉。这个我不想生养的孩子将是中东地区唯一安全的孩子。
The Last Week in Her Life生命的最后一周
The last few weeks of Marilyn’s life were not just a straight drug-induced run to the grave. Some days she was able to pick herself up, and Truman Capote, lunching with her early in June, was surprised to note, “There was a new maturity about her eyes. She wasn’t so giggly anymore and she had never looked better.” Marylin had two last public engagements, a photo session for Vogue and the interview with Life.
Nobody knows what it is like to have all that I have and yet not be loved or know happiness. All I ever wanted out of life is to be nice to people and have them be nice to me. It’s a fair exchange. And I’m a woman. I want to be loved by a man from his heart as I would love him from mine. I’ve tried but it simply hasn’t happened yet.
I really resent the way the press is now saying that I’m depressed and in a slump, as if I’m finished. Nothing’s going to sink me although it might be kind of a relief to be finished with moviemaking. You think you’ve made it. But you never have. There’s always another scene, another film, and you always have to start all over again…I want to be an artist and an actress with integrity; I really don’t care about the money, I just want to be wonderful.
She was dead less than a week later.
Of the 300 books that have been published about Marilyn since her death, fifty are full-length accounts of only the last week in her life and the multiple, conflicting, contradictory and often downright fantastical conspiracy theories that have grown up around her demise.
One of these claims that she was killed by the Mafia because she knew too much about a possible relationship with Frank Sinatra; another that the Kennedys somehow had her killed before she could spill the beans on the brothers’ sexual antics, time and again the CIA has been cited as a possible murderer because her loose-cannon sexuality meant that she was altogether too directly plugged into the innermost secrets of the United States; and there are many who believe that the shadowy cares of her last weeks killed her for the contents of her jewelbox and safe. The following facts, however, are indisputable.
At about midnight on 4 August 1962, Marilyn went to her room, taking her personal telephone with her. She bade Mrs Murray goodnight and shut her door. When Marylin’s lawyer called he was told that Marilyn was in her bedroom but the light was still on. Mrs Murray says that: At about 2 a.m., she noticed that the light was still on and she became concerned. She knocked but could get no response and finally called the ambulance service to effect a forced entry. At 3:30 in the morning of 5 August, Marilyn was found dead, nude on her bed, one arm stretched out towards the telephone. The first coroner’s report declared that her death was due to “presumed suicide caused by an overdose of barbiturates.”
Marilyn went down like a battleship. Firing on her rescuers; it must also be admitted, though, that among those rescuers were doctors and nurses anxious to deep her totally dependent upon them and therefore inclined to allow her to abuse herself with whatever substance was available on or off prescription. The most likely cause of death, on balance and with the wisdom of almost forty years’ hindsight, seems to be that Marilyn did indeed swallow, quite possibly unintentionally in her already drugged state, the overdose of hoarded Nembutal barbiturates which rapidly killed her before she could once again rescue herself by calling either Mrs Murray or a friend by telephone.
However, this verdict does not rule out the fact that there were a large number of people who by now wanted her out of the way for one reason or another. In that sense, her suicide was one of the most welcome and well-timed acts that Marilyn ever succeeded in carrying through.
玛丽莲生命的最后几周不单单是由于毒品诱发走向死亡的。有些日子她还能振作一下，何况在六月初，当杜鲁门·卡波特与她共进午餐时，还惊讶地注意到，“她的眼神中有一种全新的成熟。她不再动辄傻笑而且看上去从没有这么完美。”玛丽莲有两次最后的公开约会，一次是参加《时尚》的拍照，一次是接受《生活》的采访。
没人知道我不愁吃穿但不为人爱、不知快乐是什么滋味。我只求在生活中能善待他人，他人也同样善待我。我是公平交换。我是个女人，我需要被一个男人真心地去爱，同时我也会真心地爱他。我做过尝试，但这种事压根儿就没有发生过。
