窗外是浓墨重彩的黑,很像是书法课上,弄洒的墨汁在白色宣纸上晕开,又层层透入木制桌子上的痕迹。空气里极为安静,我的呼吸声微弱,并不会太过突兀。小区里的麻雀们想必都已经隐匿在枝桠间睡去——不比我在清晨时候看到的活泼而机灵的样子——没了翅膀扑棱棱的声响,栏杆外的街路上,来往的车辆越来越少,少到要隔上几十分钟,才隐约听 The window is filled with dark colors, much like the calligraphy class, splashed ink on the white rice paper halo open, and layers of traces of the wooden table. The air is very quiet, my breath is weak, and will not be too abrupt. All the sparrows in the community must have slept in the branches - not as lively and clever as I saw in the early morning hours - without the sound of wings fluttering in the air, traffic coming and going on the streets outside the railings Fewer, less to intervals of tens of minutes, only vaguely listen