編者按：長江之水，浩浩湯湯，奔流東去。在江蘇這片靈秀豐饒的土地上，她蜿蜒舒展，滋養(yǎng)著兩岸無垠的綠野。位于長江進(jìn)入江蘇后的第一座江心洲——新濟洲，曾居住過1123戶村民。2000年，南京市江寧區(qū)對新濟洲實施生態(tài)移民，原住民全部搬遷下島，自此，人聲漸遠(yuǎn)，江島重歸寂靜。在人類留下的屋舍殘跡間，草木蔓發(fā)，萬物生長。

經(jīng)過近三年的蹲守拍攝、積累超過八十個拍攝日的珍貴素材，《江島家書》紀(jì)錄片在馬年春節(jié)來臨之際，特別推出“生命獨白”系列短片。影片突破傳統(tǒng)紀(jì)錄片視角，將鏡頭交還自然本身，以生命的第一人稱，娓娓講述這片土地上生態(tài)保護(hù)與物種共生的動人故事。謹(jǐn)以此系列短片，獻(xiàn)給我們所有生命共有的家園。

《一封樹的來信 A Letter from a Tree》

昨日收到一攤鳥糞，在樹杈里散發(fā)著海的氣息，這群鳥剛經(jīng)海上飛回來吧。

我思考了好多年，這片泥土是我們的宿命，無論根系長多長，都無法到達(dá)對岸，除非死掉、腐朽，倒下，才能開始一段旅行。

不過，我們有自由的“羽毛”，只要風(fēng)雨足夠猛烈，身體瘋狂搖擺，張開翅膀原地舞動每一根枝椏，枝葉紛飛隨風(fēng)卷向天空，這是發(fā)出的漂流瓶，不期待有回信，因為風(fēng)向不好琢磨。這個行為很哲學(xué)，不是我，是風(fēng)。

沒有翅膀，但我想去看大海。

或許某年某月某天，下定某種決心，連根拔起奔向長江，順江而下，揮別我生長的島，一路奔向大海。

Yesterday, a splash of bird droppings landed on me and nestled in the fork of the branches, carrying the scent of the sea—these birds must have just returned from flying over the ocean.

I have pondered for many years: this patch of soil is our fate. No matter how far our roots stretch, we can never reach the opposite shore. Only in death, decay, and collapse can a journey truly begin.

Yet, we possess our own kind of "feathers." When the wind and rain grow fierce enough, our bodies sway wildly, every branch spreading like wings and dancing in place. Leaves and twigs whirl into the sky, carried by the wind—these are our message bottles, cast adrift without expectation of reply, for the wind does not blow toward those who wait. This act is philosophical—not by my will, but by the wind's.

I have no wings, yet I long to see the sea.

Perhaps one day, in some year or month, under some resolve, I might uproot myself and rush toward the Yangtze River, drift downstream, bid farewell to this island where I grew, and journey all the way to the open sea.

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