我感动于孩子干净的笑容,也惊诧于犹太人家里的炮弹壳花瓶。我撞见了奔跑中的花季少年,也在哭墙下塞进写满中文的祈愿条。我在赛车比赛的街道上当起了尘世间的看客,也在耶路撒冷的黄昏下,看绘像的艺人将笑容绘成一幅画。 I was touched by the child’s clean smile, and I was amazed at the shell shells of the Jews. I crashed into the running youth, but also crammed into a Chinese-filled prayers under the wailing wall. I became a worldly spectator on the streets of racing cars, and under the dusk of Jerusalem, the artist who looks at the paintings painted his smile as a picture.