午后,阴沉沉的。店里没有几个顾客。我很无聊,透过玻璃窗看街。天色暗淡,川流不息的人群无声出现、无声消失,仿佛神话城堡上空飞过的鸟、浮过的云、吹过的风,轻轻飘飘,不留下一丝痕迹。这时,一个旁观者的冷笑在空气中滑过,残酷、冷漠。“又白日做梦呢?”妻用杂志卷成的筒敲向我的脑袋。我猛然一惊,想到曾为之奋斗了十几年的作家梦被击得粉碎,而今只落 Afternoon, gloomy. There are few customers in the shop I am boring, looking through the windows. Dusky sky, steady stream of people silent, disappear silently, as if flying over the mythical castle over the clouds, floating clouds, blowing wind, gently fluttering, leaving no trace. At this time, a bystander’s sneer slipped in the air, cruel, indifferent. “Daydreaming?” Wife magazine rolled into my head. I was suddenly surprised, think of the writer who struggled for more than a decade dream was smashed, and now only drop