哈哈哈，就是，再严密再冰冷再 implacable 的逻辑，也抵挡不住魔幻。就像《百年孤独》里第二代 José Arcadio

卧房里一声抢响 --- A trickle of blood came out under the door, crossed the living room, went out into the street, continued on in a straight line across the uneven terraces, went down steps and climbed over curbs, passed along the Street of the Turks, turned a corner to the right and another to the left, made a right angle at the Buendía house, went in under the closed door, crossed through the parlor, hugging the walls so as not to stain the rugs, went on to the other living room, made a wide curve to avoid the dining-room table, went along the porch with the begonias, and passed without being seen under Amaranta’s chair as she gave an arithmetic lesson to Aureliano José, and went through the pantry and came out in the kitchen, where Úrsula was getting ready to crack thirty-six eggs to make bread.

“Holy Mother of God!” Úrsula shouted.

She followed the thread of blood back along its course, ..., and she came out onto the square and went into the door of a house where she had never been, and she pushed open the bedroom door and was almost suffocated by the smell of burned gunpowder, and she found José Arcadio lying face down on the ground on top of the leggings he had just taken off, and she saw the starting point of the thread of blood that had already stopped flowing out of his right ear. They found no wound on his body nor could they locate the weapon. Nor was it possible to remove the smell of powder from the corpse. ... ...

:-)

传人兄周末愉快

 

 

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• 再谢古纸兄的文化渗透。只听说过，从没想过去读，现在连“放在计划”里都不敢奢想了，^_^。其实许多--- -文革传人- ♂ (74 bytes) () 10/22/2021 postreply 23:42:41