架棧的陳室裡有實木茶盤與砂杯。這是一杯關於時間的茶。

由生到熟，青到紅。生煙炊煮水，80度沸水一劃，由高山到低川；

化開紋路，水留痕，後沉鎮而回甘，像一塊赤褐潤澤的石頭。

山底的磚屋生著炊煙，在山城的大氣遊走，
乾茶與紅牆沾染時間的顏色，人來去的步伐風乾了茶葉。
茶磚與木與土與城，一五十年間一同陳化。
執壺注水，水柱悠緩，由杯緣順時針轉水至中心，聽水的歌。

遠處木棧傳來舊山的歌謠，茶色黃紅透澄，茶味澀淨回甘。

生葉採於仍須書信的時候。倒流時間。

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Puer is ripe time. 

From raw to ripe, green to carmine. In an old room served tea in purple boccaro clay on a wooden tray, at 80 degrees.

Boiled water streams a crimson river from an altitude and settles a lake in the cup.

 

Tea and walls fermented and tinted by the years, aged red and brown.

The air travels through houses and highlands, and takes nostalgia back between the compressed leaves. Traces of people moving and leaving, become a wind that dries the tea. Then it rains.

The color diffuses and unifies again in red,

the water that runs through it becomes denser in time.

 

Brew and pour the aged water anti-clockwise, breathe the moment, reverse time.

Remember when the tea was new, when we still wrote letters,

when it tasted fresh, bitter and left a sweet aftertaste.