论文部分内容阅读
脑袋胀得像南瓜有5年时间,直到波拿巴路那次炸弹案为止,我们两周一次在星期日十七点三十分聚集开会。萨特、杂志的九位编委、科和我。在曼西太太公寓所在的五层楼上往下看是圣日耳曼广场和雷恩路的远景。萨特在办公桌前跟我们面对面。西蒙娜·德·波伏瓦、梅洛-庞蒂、朗兹曼、贝佐、高兹、柯莱特·奥特里,坐在桥牌椅上,要听,要讨论,要争议好几个小时。这令人兴奋,让人疲劳,有时还隐晦难懂。但是我不能不听——“索尔贝太太,一刻钟前您思想开了小差。”
Head squashed like a pumpkin for five years until the bombing of Bonaparte, and we meet again at seven thirty on Sunday on weekdays. Sartre, nine editorial board, section and me. Looking down on the fifth floor of Mrs. Mansi’s apartment is the prospect of Saint-Germain Square and Rennes. Sartre was at the desk with us face to face. Simone de Beauvoir, Merleau-Ponty, Longzman, Bezos, Gordes, Camelot Otri, sitting on a bridge chair, listening, discussing, arguing for hours. It’s exciting, frustrating and sometimes obscure. But I can not but hear - “Mrs.Solba, a minute before your mind broke loose.”