Theo had taken forty-two photographs of the riverside market before he noticed the woman in the blue scarf. She stood behind a fruit stall, arranging persimmons into a pyramid. When he lifted his camera, she turned toward the wall. At school, his teacher praised the image for its mystery. That evening, his aunt, a radio producer, asked whether the woman had agreed to be photographed. “It is a public market,” Theo said. His aunt nodded slowly. “That answers where you stood, not whether she wanted to be seen.”
西奥在河边老市场拍了四十二张照片，才注意到那个戴蓝围巾的女人。她站在水果摊后，把柿子摆成整齐的金字塔。他举起相机时，她把脸转向墙壁。在学校，老师称赞这张照片充满神秘感。那天晚上，他的姨妈——一位广播制作人——问他，那位女人是否同意被拍。“这是公共市场，”西奥说。姨妈慢慢点头。“这回答了当时你站在哪里，却没有回答她是否愿意被看见。”
On Saturday, Theo returned without his camera. He bought two persimmons and apologized. The woman’s name was Mrs. Han. She had sold fruit there for thirty-one years and was tired of being a colorful background for other people’s projects. She did not want her face online, but she wanted someone to hear how the rent had doubled. Theo asked to record her voice instead. Mrs. Han considered the small recorder, then straightened her scarf. “No picture,” she said. “But you may listen.”
星期六，西奥没带相机回到市场。他买了两个柿子，向她道歉。女人姓韩。她在那个摊位卖了三十一年水果，已经厌倦成为别人项目里鲜艳的背景。她不愿自己的脸出现在网上，但她希望有人听听租金怎样翻了一倍。西奥问，能不能改录她的声音。韩女士看了看小录音机，又理了理围巾。“不拍照，”她说，“但你可以听。”
Theo spent two weeks collecting voices instead of faces. Mrs. Han introduced him to Mr. Liu, whose bakery at the market’s north end had been losing customers. At first, Mr. Liu answered in short sentences. He did not want a sad story, he said, or strangers feeling sorry for him. Theo turned off the recorder and helped stack trays. While they worked, Mr. Liu began talking about the sourdough starter his grandmother had carried from another province in a clay jar.
接下来的两周，西奥收集的是声音，而不是面孔。韩女士把他介绍给刘先生；刘先生在市场北端的面包店，顾客越来越少。起初，刘先生只用短句回答。他说自己不想要一个悲伤的故事，也不想要陌生人同情他。西奥关掉录音机，帮他叠托盘。干活时，刘先生开始讲起那罐酸面团酵种——他的祖母曾把它装在一只陶罐里，从另一个省份带来。
When Theo asked permission to record, Mr. Liu spoke for twenty minutes. He described the starter’s sour smell, the six o’clock queue, and the customer who bought one sesame bun every Friday. He admitted he had never told his daughter how much the bakery meant to him. Theo edited nothing except a passing truck. He paired the audio with a photograph of the empty counter, not the baker’s face. Mr. Liu listened in silence. “It sounds like the shop is still alive,” he said.
当西奥请求录音时，刘先生讲了二十分钟。他描述酵种酸酸的气味、六点钟的排队，还有每个星期五只买一个芝麻包的老顾客。他承认，自己从未告诉女儿这家店对他有多重要。西奥只剪掉了一辆经过的卡车声。他把录音配上一张空柜台的照片，而不是面包师的脸。刘先生听完后沉默了很久。“听起来，这家店还活着，”他说。
The school’s spring exhibition opened in the library. Theo had printed small cards beside each photograph: name of the speaker, date recorded, and a line explaining that each person had approved the audio. Visitors borrowed headphones from a box. Some listened for a few seconds and moved on; others stood so long that the librarian brought out chairs. A girl stopped in front of the empty bakery counter and pressed the headphones to her ears. When Mr. Liu’s voice described the Friday sesame bun, she began to cry.
学校的春季展览在公共图书馆开幕。西奥在每张照片旁放了小卡片：讲述者的名字、录制日期，还有一行说明每个人都已经同意使用这段音频。参观者从一只盒子里借耳机。有人听了几秒钟就走开；有人在照片前站得太久，图书管理员只好搬出椅子。一个女孩停在空荡荡的面包店柜台前，把耳机贴在耳边。当刘先生的声音描述星期五的芝麻包时，她开始哭。
The girl was Mr. Liu’s daughter. She recognized the empty counter before she heard her father’s voice, then asked to listen again. Theo panicked, afraid he had crossed a line. She only smiled. Later, Mrs. Han stood beside her own audio card and told visitors she had chosen not to show her face. “A picture can steal a moment,” she said. “A voice can return one.” Theo removed his favorite photograph and replaced it with a blank card reading: Ask first.
女孩是刘先生的女儿。她先认出了空柜台，然后才听到父亲的声音；她请求再听一遍。西奥慌了，担心自己越过了界线。她只是微笑。后来，韩女士站在自己的音频卡旁，告诉参观者她选择不露脸。“照片可能偷走一个瞬间，”她说，“声音却能把瞬间还回来。”西奥取下了自己最喜欢的那张照片，换上一张空白卡片，上面写着：先征得同意。