那日,我去了已成废墟的小镇。天空中布满阴霾,处处都飘荡着死亡的气息,那些不怎么好看却承载了无数生命的楼房已变成一街一街的瓦砾。至于下面还埋葬了多少躯体,埋葬了多少人支离破碎的感情,我不知道。我一直在想,想那些被深埋在废墟下的人会思索些什么,想如果我是不幸的人们中的一员,我能不能撑到170小时,或者120小时,哪怕只是60个小时。 That day, I went to a small town that was already in ruins. The sky is filled with haze, and there is a breath of death everywhere. Those buildings that are not so good-looking but carry countless lives have become rubble on streets and streets. As for the number of bodies buried below, how many people buried their broken feelings, I do not know. I have been thinking about what people who are buried under the rubble will think about, and if I am a member of the unfortunate people, I can not reach 170 hours, or 120 hours, even if only 60 hours.