11月,一种温温吞吞的不太冷。冬天的北京,我其实特别喜欢那种很爽的北风凛冽,但至少今年,时至今日还没有感觉到。最近在Kindle上读陈丹青的《纽约琐记》,这是一本老书了,但其中的一些部分和语句,有一种几乎让人落泪的纯粹,这种纯粹,在目前的生活中很难捕捉到了。我经常想,难道这种纯粹,真的只属于已经逝去的八十年代?在现在的学术丛林里,大家似乎都越来越忙,而且忙得好像都很有道理。中国的林子确实太大了,无论是忙什么,几乎都能找到针对性的需求,至少能有一口 November, a warm and not too cold. Winter in Beijing, I actually like the kind of cool north wind, but at least this year, has not yet felt. Recently reading Chen Danqing’s New York Succubus on the Kindle is an old book, but some of these parts and sentences have an almost sheer tear-telling purity that is hard in the present life Caught it. I often wonder, is this pure, really only belongs to the eighties that have passed away? In the current academic jungle, everyone seems to be getting busier and busy seems to make sense. China’s forest is indeed too big, no matter what busy, almost all can find the specific needs, at least have a