暮色

• 琵琶鱼

  2022-10-01
  韦恩·加里希这样几乎从不开口的人，苦涩已经渗入骨髓。他们举止从容，他们的习惯已经打磨光滑。
• 琵琶鱼

  2022-10-01
  站在镜子前，冷冷地打量自己的脸。四十六岁。就在她的脖子上，在她的眼睛下面。她不会再年轻了。她应该恳求他的，她想。她应该告诉他自己所有的感受，所有那些心突然揪紧的时刻。充满希望和漫长白昼的夏天已经过去。
• 琵琶鱼

  2022-10-01
  她是那种生活有着特定模式的女人。她懂得如何举办宴会，如何照料狗，如何走进餐厅。她有一套独有的方式来回复邀请函，着装打扮，做她自己。堪称无可比拟的习惯。一个读过书，打过高尔夫，参加过一些婚礼，有过一双美腿，经受过风浪，但如今没人想要的好女人
• 琵琶鱼

  2022-10-01
  如他所说，这座城市分为上升的人和下降的人，热闹餐厅里的人和大街上的人，等待的人和不必如此的人，门上有三把锁的人和在饰有银镜和胡桃木镶板的门厅里乘电梯上楼的人。还有像克里斯蒂夫人那样看起来很有把握，但其实卡在中间的。
• 琵琶鱼

  2022-10-01
  女人一旦了解你就会爱上你。男人恰好相反。等到他们终于了解你的时候，就准备离开了。
• Cal

  2022-03-11
  It was nearly midnight, people were coming out of the theaters, the café at the Casino was roaring. A sea of hidden and half-hidden faces with the waiters always standing so someone could be hidden behind them, he combed it slowly. Surely she was there. She was sitting at a table by herself, she expected to be found.The same cars were turning through the streets, he stepped among them. People walked slowly, stopping at lighted windows. She would be looking at a display of expensive shoes, antique jewelry perhaps, gold necklaces. At the corners he had a feeling of loss. He passed down interior arcades. He was leaving the more familiar section. The newsstands were locked, the cinemas dark.Suddenly, like the first truth of illness, the certainty left him. Had she gone back to her hotel? P...
• Cal

  2022-03-11
  When the door closed she did not turn. She heard the car start outside and saw the reflection of the headlights. She stood in front of the mirror and looked at her face coldly. Forty-six. It was there in her neck and beneath her eyes. She would never be any younger. She should have pleaded, she thought. She should have told him all she was feeling, all that suddenly choked her heart. The summer with its hope and long days was gone. She had the urge to follow him, to drive past his house. The lights would be on. She would see someone through the windows.That night she heard the branches tapping against the house and the window frames rattle. She sat alone and thought of the geese, she could hear them out there. It had gotten cold. The wind was blowing their feathers. They lived a long tim...
• Cal

  2022-03-11
  Years had passed. Fenn gazed out at the night. It seemed he was the only listener to an infinite sea of cries. Its vastness awed him. He thought of all that lay concealed behind it, the desperate acts, the desires, the fatal surprises. That afternoon he had seen a robin picking at something near the edge of the grass, seizing it, throwing it in the air, seizing it again: a toad, its small, stunned legs fanned out. The bird threw it again. In ravenous burrows the blind shrews hunted ceaselessly, the pointed tongues of reptiles were testing the air, there was the crunch of abdomens, the passivity of the trapped, the soft throes of mating. His daughters were asleep down the hall. Nothing is safe except for an hour.As he stood there the sound seemed to change, he did not know how. It seemed ...
• Cal

  2022-03-11
  That summer was the one they came here—it was where Henry had been living—and bought the place past the Macraes’. All year they fixed up the house and Henry started his landscaping business. They had their own world. Up through the fields in nothing but shorts, the earth warm under their feet, skin flecked with dirt from swimming in the ditch where the water was chilly and deep, like two sun-bleached children but far better, the screen door slamming, things on the kitchen table, catalogues, knives, new everything. Autumn with its brilliant blue skies and the first storms coming up from the west.It was dark now, everywhere except up by the ridge. There were all the things she had meant to do, to go East again, to visit certain friends, to live a year by the sea. She could not believe it w...
• 某四

  2022-02-09
  哈里是凌晨三点左右去世的。之前他去了趟超市在货架后面，撑着手推车，半天喘不上气来。他勉强喝了点茶。他坐在他的椅子里，半睡半醒之间，厨房的灯还亮着。突然，他感到一阵可怕的、冲毁一切的剧痛。他的嘴不知不觉地张开了，嘴皮很干他留下的东西很少，几件衣服，那辆塞满工具的雪佛兰，看上去都死气沉沉。他的锤柄很光滑。什么地方的活他都干过，战争期间还在加尔维斯顿造过船。有几张他二十岁的照片，里面是同样的鹰钩鼻，硬朗的乡下人的脸。在殡仪馆，他看起来就像个法老。他们把他的两只手交叠起来。他的双陷，眼皮薄得像纸。
• 某四

  2022-02-04
  那些日子里，他们住在摆放着古怪家具的公寓，星期天会睡到中午。他们正处在法律行业大军的最底层。上面有精明的初级合伙人，还有律所合伙人、律师，穿着考究的西装在四季酒店吃午餐的男人们。弗兰克的父亲每周会去上三四次，要么就去世纪俱乐部或者联合俱乐部，那里全是些比他还老的男人。一半的会员都尿不出来，据他说，另一半一尿就停不下来。
• 某四

  2022-02-09
  小小的霓虹灯牌在灰蒙蒙的天色里格外明亮，街对面是墓地和她自己的车，一辆进口车，保养得非常好，就停在大门附近，车头朝着相反的方向。她总是这样她是那种生活有着特定模式的女人。她懂得如何举办宴会，如何照料狗，如何走进餐厅。她有一套独有的方式来回复邀请函，着装打扮，做她自己。堪称无可比拟的习惯。一个读过书，打过高尔夫，参加过一些婚礼，有过一双美腿，经受过风浪，但如今没人想要的好女人。
• 某四

  2022-02-06
  他也一样，填满一页又一页稿纸，无穷无尽，充斥着崇高与平凡、不可思议的角色、洞见、人性的弱点，以及垃圾。
• 荣青

  2022-03-20
  他的人生并未如他所期望的那样发展，但他仍然认为自己是特殊的，有别于其他任何人。事实上，他认为失败是浪漫的。这几乎是他的目标。
• 荣青

  2022-03-20
  他正在向着北极星走去，他能感觉到。那感觉就像是在下坠。整个动作令人眩晕，不可逆转。它正把他带往一个地方，在那里他拥有的一切都无法保护他，会让他赤着脚，孤身一人。
• 荣青

  2022-03-20
  想到这世上存在一种不劳而获的幸福，而有人总能找到那种幸福，她就想要呕吐。
• 荣青

  2022-03-20
  他是他们伟大而一成不变的秩序的一部分，他们靠薪水生活，他们的世界没有光亮，也不知道上面有什么。
• 某四

  2022-02-04
  如他所说，这座城市分为上升的人和下降的人，热闹餐厅里的人和大街上的人，等待的人和不必如此的人，门上有三把锁的人和在饰有银镜和胡桃木镶板的门厅里乘电梯上楼的人。还有像克里斯蒂夫人那样看起来很有把握，但其实卡在中间的。
• 某四

  2022-02-09
  有那么一类小作家，你能看到他在图书馆的某个房间里给自己的小说签名。他的食指是茶色的，一笑满口坏牙。但他懂文学。他骨子里的悲凉就是这么来的。他知道世上都有哪些书，作家们都死在哪里。他的观点冷酷而精准。它们很纯粹，起码可以这么说。他不算出名，尽管也不乏几个仰慕者。就像婚姻，没什么意思，但还能怎么样呢？他的生活就是他的日记。某一页上抄着占星师的一句话：女人是你的天然良伴。有时候吧，或许。仅此而已。他的头发稀薄。衣服有点过时。但他心里清楚，有种伟大的、终极的荣光会降临在某些人身上，触碰默默无闻的他们，重塑他们的人生，尽管他们在自己的时代无人问津。他心目中的英雄是穆齐尔。当然,还有杰拉尔德・曼利・霍普金斯,蒲宁
• 琵琶鱼

  2022-10-01
  他过着一种生活，想象着另外十种，总有一种能为他提供慰藉。