日影开始倾斜,一大匹余光在东区上空游移,抬头望,像一件有汗馊味的男用水洗丝衬衫被谁扔在那儿,站在十字街口的我看来像一只晕在袖口、尚未被揉死的虫子。这城市正在大手术,剖腹挖肠似的,一阵尘风扑来,路边行人干咳或咒骂,我习惯以暂停呼吸来抵抗尘埃及所有类似尘埃之事,像不打算交代遗言的虫。驯服的市民过街了,我仍在原处与心中的三种声音谈判—我们总是花费大量时间做选择,却 The shadow of the sun began to tilt, a large surplus of light wandering over the Eastern District, looked up, like a sweaty smell of male washing silk shirt was thrown there, standing crossroads I seem to be a halo In cuffs, bugs that have not been kneaded yet. The city is undergoing major surgery, laparotomy, a dust storm, dry cough or cursing on the sidewalk, and I used to pause my breath to resist the dust and all the dust-like things that I did not intend to explain. Tame citizens crossed the street, and I’m still talking to the three voices in my heart - we always spend a lot of time making choices