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对我来说,写作源自于或远或近的记忆,而记忆又只钟情于创伤。生活浩大无边,注定被一一埋葬,星星点点的收获都是残骇之上缓缓冒起的磷火,那些黑夜里冒冒失失进行的暗写作,很长时间里都在被我改头换面一再重写。最初,我是那么冲动,急于诉说一切事情,随便哪里起头,便能嘈嘈切切说个不休,或者被某个冷不丁跑出来的念头所驱使,受不了它在脑子里反复击打,为了安抚,一笔一划,一段一章,使之冷却凝固,渐渐显出念头后面
For me, writing comes from memory far or near, and memory falls back to trauma. Life boundless boundless, destined to be buried one by one, the little bit of starry harvest are slowly risking Phosphorus fire, the darkness of the arrogance of the dark writing, for a long time have been rewritten by me over and over again . Initially, I was so impulsive, eager to tell everything, wherever he started, we can endlessly endless roar of the noise, or was driven by a cold out of thoughts, can not stand it in my mind repeated beating, in order to appease, A stroke, a chapter, so that the solidification of cooling, gradually showing the idea behind