现实生活是一种夹杂着些许美感和温暖,却有着更多寡味和琐碎,重复而沉闷细节的讲故事方式。而旅行,则是打破这孤独而冗长的心理絮语,所插入的一段他乡的注解,所邂逅的一段他者的人生。怀着这样的期待,七月的小暑过后,一次早已确定好的旅行终于如期而至了。伴随着大提琴忧郁的低鸣,车驶进了凌晨六点的雨雾,城市迷离的夜色还没有褪去,看着那些熟悉的街景,心里掠过一阵虚晃。时常困惑卡夫卡为什么总能捕获到现实背后那 Real life is a kind of storytelling style mixed with a little beauty and warmth, but with more oligarchy and trivial, repetitive and boring details. And travel, it is to break this lonely and tedious psychological language, inserted by a hometown annotation, the encounter of the other’s life. With such expectations, a well-established trip has finally arrived on schedule after a small summer in July. With the gloom of the cello, the car drove into the rain and fog at six o’clock in the morning, and the blurred night of the city had not faded, watching the familiar streetscapes, passing a feint of illusion. Often wondering why Kafka can always capture the reality behind that