我常去的那个水库,在南山陵园旁。晚上十一二点的时候,一个人影也没有,远处湛蓝的灯光斜射过来,打在湖面和我的脸上,光线柔和而黯淡,仿佛一捏就碎。湖水的两面长满墓碑,你只要从水中钻出脑袋,就能看见它们在静谧的灯光下高高耸立着。有时候,我发现它们像极了一些人,一些在我记忆中面目模糊的人,我看不清面目上镌刻的字,但是他们耸立的身影,以及从那腐朽的肉身上散发出来的坚硬气质,却永远地留在了我的嗅觉之中。我想我最后大概会变成一条狗,靠 The reservoir I used to go to is near the Nanshan cemetery. At eleven eleven in the evening there was not a single figure, and the blue light of the distance diagonally came over, hitting the lake and my face, and the light was soft and dark, as if to squeeze it. The tombstones fill the two sides of the lake, and as long as you drill your head out of the water, you can see them standing tall in quiet light. Sometimes I find that they look like some people, some who are blurred in my memory, I can not see the words engraved on the face, but their towering figure and the hard temperament exuded from the decadent flesh , But always stay in my sense of smell. I think I will eventually become a dog, by