窗外难听的汽笛声又来了一阵,像是沉默的剧场中忽然划开的一条口子,又像是雪白的墙壁上偶然发现的那一块显眼的鞋印,尖锐,无法忍受。那是我第一次知道他喜欢看默剧,在无声的世界中悄悄地感受着舞台上每一个流畅的动作——我好像是不太理解的。如果我现在不在这个沉静的剧场,是不是可以任由阳光照耀脸颊,微风吹起发梢;是不是可以捎上伙伴一起野餐,充满着欢声笑语;是不是可以窝在房间里翻翻那些吸引着这个 Another siren whistle outside the window came another burst of silence, like a sloth in the silent theater, a sharp, unbearable piece of shoe that was accidentally found on a white wall. That was the first time I knew he liked to watch mimes and quietly felt every smooth move on the stage in a silent world - something I did not seem to understand. If I am not in this quiet theater, is it possible to let the sun shine on my cheeks, the breeze blows my hair? Is it possible to accompany my partner for a picnic full of laughter? Is it possible to nest in the room? This one