Forgotten This article is adapted from the song 《I Can’t Even Remember My Own Name》which was written by Frums. It’s written to pay respect to them. Not only because they’re one of the experimental musicians, but also because of their music that touches souls. She awakens. She lies on the street, around the flow of people. She stands up, looking around with unfamiliar feelings. She wants to remember something. “Where am I? Why am I here? Who am I?” But she forgets everything. She can’t even remember her own name. But she must find it. Only then, she can know everything about her. She goes to the police office and tries to find out her identity. She’s driven away. She catches people on the street and asked: “Do you know my name?” But nobody knows, and nobody wants to answer. She asks for only half an hour before she’s caught away by the police. She’s detained for many days. But in the police office, she still asks everyone she meets: “Do you know my name?” She’s nearly crazy. In fact, she’s just regard as a maniac and sent to a mental hospital. She can’t stand the truth of forgetting everything, so she must continue finding her own name. She meets a person. She asks: “Do you know my name?” That person asks back: “Why do you stick to this?” Her brain shuts off. “Because my name is important to me.” “But you still can live without a name.” Her brain shuts off again. At this moment, the tiredness of finding name and the hunger knock down her. She faints. She awakens again. This time, she lies on an abandoned sofa on the roof of the mental hospital late at night. The person who asked back her stands not far in front of the sofa and next to a radio. The person faces the night view of the city. The radio says off and on: “Funding this program was made possible by viewers like you.” When “broadcast” is said, the radio signal crashes to a breaking point and disconnects. That person turns around at the same time. “Ah, you wake up.” “Where is here?” “The place where I relax and think about something.” “Why am I here?” “I carried you here.” Silent. “Is what you said true? Can I live without a name?” “I have forgotten my name and everything about me before and lived to this day.” Silent again. “So do you still want to find your own name?” The person asks. “I think I’d better to think about how to live.” “Come on, let’s leave here.” The person takes her away from the mental hospital. “If there is a need, come here.” The person gives her a map and marks a house. “Then everything depends on you, live well.” After saying these words, the person leaves her. She stands where she is and still couldn’t move. She’s still surprised that she can live without a name. “But anyway, many things still can’t be done until the morning comes.” She realizes. She sleeps on the street again. She wakes up, again. She’s still on the street, around the flow of people. The street is still unfamiliar to her. She stands up and looks around, again. But this time is different to the first time, she needn’t to stick to finding the forgotten memories. She finds a shop which puts up a job advertisement and walks to it… Now it’s the 114th day after she escaped from the mental hospital. She finally has a job. She works as an intern in a company. But she still remembers the frustrations of finding job: Some jobs that the interviewers asked her at first: “Tell us your name.” Some jobs that really didn’t suit her. Some jobs that she lost the competition with others. In the company, she’s named Staff 514. Every time she’s asked about her own name, she answers: “I don’t have a name.” Every time she finishes answering and continues working, she can’t see the expressions like looking at a weirdo in questioners’ and other people’s eyes. But she knows the kind of expressions in their eyes when they look at her. Little by little, people in the company all call her “The nameless” and treat her worse than before. She can’t stand all these things and offers to resign to leave the company. Finally, she doesn’t find a job in this city. She feels a little lost, just like the first time she awakened. She suddenly remembers that map. She follows the map. With the help of strangers, she finds the house late at night. It’s a normal house on the top of a mountain far from the city. It’s without a house number. She gets to the door of the house and thinks for a while, then goes into it. ?To her surprise, there’s no dust inside the house, the furniture is also new. ?She says loudly: “Is there anyone?” The sound echoes through the house. ?She gets to the second floor and walks to the front of a window. ?She finds a piece of paper on the window. ?She takes down the paper, finds a poem on it. “Since birth We have been named It’s with us for the whole life People around us also names us It feels like we’re defined by others They want us to live as their ideas Be a perfect picture At least in their opinions But we still have another option If we were born to be special Why do we need names to prove it? Everyone is worth being proud of their uniqueness Everyone is worth proving their uniqueness by living Everyone is worth taking their lives as their own ‘names’ Everyone is worth thanking to themselves ——The nameless” ?There’s a radio next to the window, it says off and on: ?“Funding this program was made possible by viewers like you.” Again, when “broadcast” is said, the radio signal crashes to a breaking point and disconnects. ?She opens the window and looks at the city in distance. ?The city fluorescent lights are complex, the wind whistles and passes.