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1.塔就站在一眼望不见尽头的“波浪”之上。那片灰扑扑的老城区,黑色的、赭色的屋脊,高低交错,覆盖倾轧,波浪翻滚。目光投过去,屋脊把一块块光折射到远处的天幕、山峦、湖泊,瞬间刺痛眼睛。水在老城区划下一道边界,城市长大的步履,在这里停下。塔的四周簇拥着密集的院落和民居,人间烟火常年四季熏染着它。黄昏时分,一些不知名的飞鸟,一拨飞走一拨飞来,绕匝着塔尖这一圆心,力气饱满地旋转。老居民和外来者,需要从塔出发,像寻找宝藏的入口一样,才能拼凑出一个记忆中的城与市。
1. The tower stands at a “seemingly endless” wave. That piece of gray old town, black, ocher roof, staggered, covering the rolling waves rolling. Eyes cast in the past, the roof of a piece of light refraction to the distant sky, mountains, lakes, instant eyes stinging. Water in the Old City draw a border, the city grew up, stop here. The tower surrounded by crowded courtyards and houses, perennial fireworks infected it. At dusk, some unknown birds, a fleet of flying fly, turn around the center of the spire, full of strength to rotate. Old inhabitants and outsiders need to start from the tower, just like looking for treasures entrances, to piece together a mere city and city of memory.