星期日,伦敦郊区那套带家具出租的公寓空出来了。茜尔达·普罗维斯从中心街上的代理人那里取过钥匙,向着山下20号走去。这是初夏上午11点半钟。那僻静的路旁,一栋栋房子——有的相当大——坐落在满是山楂树和金链花的蒙着尘埃的花园里,花期已过。已经两周没下雨,下水道排水口处和花园墙根下堆满了飘落的花瓣和种子,花瓣上沾有花粉。空气里充溢着一种干燥的花粉气味。 On Sunday, the furnished rented apartment on the outskirts of London was empty. Silvia Provence took the key from the agent on the center street and headed for the Yamashita no. 20. This is early half past eleven in the morning. The quiet side of the road, a house - some quite large - is nestled in a dusty garden full of hawthorn and Laburnum, flowering has passed. It’s been raining for two weeks, the sewer drains and garden walls are full of falling petals and seeds, pollen on the petals. The air is filled with a dry pollen smell.