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As always, we’re sitting beside each other on the old sofa in my father’s study. Crow loves the study and all the little objects scattered around there. Now he’s toying with a bee-shaped glass 1)paperweight. If my father was at home, you can bet Crow would never go anywhere near it.
“But I have to get out of here,” I tell him.“No two ways about it.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He places the paperweight back on the table and links his hands behind his head. “Not that running away’s going to solve everything. I don’t want to rain on your parade or anything, but I wouldn’t count on escaping this place if I were you. No matter how far you run. Distance might not solve anything.”
The boy named Crow lets out a sigh, then rests a fingertip on each of his closed eyelids and speaks to me from the darkness within. “How about we play our game?” he says.
“All right,” I say. I close my eyes and quietly take a deep breath.
“Okay, picture a terrible sandstorm,” he says. “Get everything else out of your head.”
I do what he says, get everything else out of my head. I forget who I am, even. I’m a total blank. Then things begin to surface. Things that—as we sit here on the old leather
我们像往常那样并坐在父亲书房的旧皮沙发上，叫乌鸦的少年中意这个地方，这里零零碎碎的东西让他喜欢得不得了。此刻他手里正摆弄着蜜蜂形状的玻璃镇纸，当然，父亲在家时他从不靠近。
我说：“可是不管怎样，我都必须从这里离开，这点坚定不移。”
“或许。”叫乌鸦的少年表示同意。他把镇纸放在桌上，手抱后脑勺，“但逃离并不能解决所有问题，我也不想泼你冷水。但我如果是你，就不会离开这个地方。不管你跑多远，距离解决不了任何问题。”
叫乌鸦的少年叹口气，用手指肚按住两边的眼睑，随后闭目合眼，从黑暗深处向我开口道：“像以往玩游戏那样干下去好了。”
“听你的。”我也同样闭起眼睛，静静地深吸一口气。
“注意了，想象很凶很凶的沙尘暴。”他说，“其他事情统统忘光。”
我按他说的，想象很凶很凶的沙尘暴。其他的忘个一干二净，甚至自己本身也忘掉。我变成空白。事物顿时浮现出来——那些我和少年一如往常坐在父亲书房的旧皮沙发上见到的那些事物。
“You’re going to be the world’s toughest fifteenyear-old,” Crow whispers as I try to fall asleep. As if he were carving the words in a deep blue tattoo on my heart.
And you really will have to make it through that violent, 6)metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too; hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.
On my fifteenth birthday I’ll run away from home, journey to a far-off town, and live in a corner of a small library. It’d take a week to go into the whole thing, all the details. So I’ll just give the main point. On my fifteenth birthday I’ll run away from home, journey to a far-off town, and live in a corner of a small library.
It sounds a little like a fairy tale. But it’s no fairy tale, believe me. No matter what sort of spin you put on it.
“往下你将成为世界上最顽强的十五岁少年”——叫乌鸦的少年在即将睡过去的我的耳边静静地重复一遍，就像用深蓝色的字迹刺青一般地写进我的心。
当然，你一定要穿过那个凶猛的沙尘暴，穿过超自然的、象征性的沙尘暴。但是，它既是超自然的、象征性的，同时又将如千万把剃须刀锋利地割裂你的血肉之躯。不知有多少人将在那里流血，你本身也会流血。温暖的、鲜红的血。你将双手接血。那既是你的血，又是别人的血。
而沙尘暴偃旗息鼓之时，你恐怕还不能完全明白自己是如何从中穿过而得以逃生的，甚至它是否已经远去你大概都无从判断。不过有一点是清楚的：从沙尘暴中逃出的你已不再是跨入沙尘暴时的你。是的，这就是所谓沙尘暴的含义。
十五岁生日到来的时候，我会离开家，去远方陌生的城市，在一座小图书馆的角落里求生。当然，如果将此事详细说来，恐怕要连续说上一个星期。但若只说要点，那便是：十五岁生日到来的时候，我会离开家，去远方陌生的城市，在一座小图书馆的角落里求生。
听起来也许像是童话。然而那不是童话，相信我的话——无论你如何看这件事。
“But I have to get out of here,” I tell him.“No two ways about it.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He places the paperweight back on the table and links his hands behind his head. “Not that running away’s going to solve everything. I don’t want to rain on your parade or anything, but I wouldn’t count on escaping this place if I were you. No matter how far you run. Distance might not solve anything.”
The boy named Crow lets out a sigh, then rests a fingertip on each of his closed eyelids and speaks to me from the darkness within. “How about we play our game?” he says.
“All right,” I say. I close my eyes and quietly take a deep breath.
“Okay, picture a terrible sandstorm,” he says. “Get everything else out of your head.”
I do what he says, get everything else out of my head. I forget who I am, even. I’m a total blank. Then things begin to surface. Things that—as we sit here on the old leather
我们像往常那样并坐在父亲书房的旧皮沙发上，叫乌鸦的少年中意这个地方，这里零零碎碎的东西让他喜欢得不得了。此刻他手里正摆弄着蜜蜂形状的玻璃镇纸，当然，父亲在家时他从不靠近。
我说：“可是不管怎样，我都必须从这里离开，这点坚定不移。”
“或许。”叫乌鸦的少年表示同意。他把镇纸放在桌上，手抱后脑勺，“但逃离并不能解决所有问题，我也不想泼你冷水。但我如果是你，就不会离开这个地方。不管你跑多远，距离解决不了任何问题。”
叫乌鸦的少年叹口气，用手指肚按住两边的眼睑，随后闭目合眼，从黑暗深处向我开口道：“像以往玩游戏那样干下去好了。”
“听你的。”我也同样闭起眼睛，静静地深吸一口气。
“注意了，想象很凶很凶的沙尘暴。”他说，“其他事情统统忘光。”
我按他说的，想象很凶很凶的沙尘暴。其他的忘个一干二净，甚至自己本身也忘掉。我变成空白。事物顿时浮现出来——那些我和少年一如往常坐在父亲书房的旧皮沙发上见到的那些事物。
“You’re going to be the world’s toughest fifteenyear-old,” Crow whispers as I try to fall asleep. As if he were carving the words in a deep blue tattoo on my heart.
And you really will have to make it through that violent, 6)metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too; hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.
On my fifteenth birthday I’ll run away from home, journey to a far-off town, and live in a corner of a small library. It’d take a week to go into the whole thing, all the details. So I’ll just give the main point. On my fifteenth birthday I’ll run away from home, journey to a far-off town, and live in a corner of a small library.
It sounds a little like a fairy tale. But it’s no fairy tale, believe me. No matter what sort of spin you put on it.
“往下你将成为世界上最顽强的十五岁少年”——叫乌鸦的少年在即将睡过去的我的耳边静静地重复一遍，就像用深蓝色的字迹刺青一般地写进我的心。
当然，你一定要穿过那个凶猛的沙尘暴，穿过超自然的、象征性的沙尘暴。但是，它既是超自然的、象征性的，同时又将如千万把剃须刀锋利地割裂你的血肉之躯。不知有多少人将在那里流血，你本身也会流血。温暖的、鲜红的血。你将双手接血。那既是你的血，又是别人的血。
而沙尘暴偃旗息鼓之时，你恐怕还不能完全明白自己是如何从中穿过而得以逃生的，甚至它是否已经远去你大概都无从判断。不过有一点是清楚的：从沙尘暴中逃出的你已不再是跨入沙尘暴时的你。是的，这就是所谓沙尘暴的含义。
十五岁生日到来的时候，我会离开家，去远方陌生的城市，在一座小图书馆的角落里求生。当然，如果将此事详细说来，恐怕要连续说上一个星期。但若只说要点，那便是：十五岁生日到来的时候，我会离开家，去远方陌生的城市，在一座小图书馆的角落里求生。
听起来也许像是童话。然而那不是童话，相信我的话——无论你如何看这件事。