Cha-Ching——Chimes
What do we have left?
To kill time, no thyself
Home of parlour jazz, Al Capone and bastardized Bauhaus,Chicago is like a real existing dystopian metropolis, written in haste from a scruple between the editor and a frustrated second-grade pulp teen novel author.
International bulletproof spaceshipwreck. It’s fine; it’s fun.
There is a mummified cat in the museum.
THERE IS A MUMMIFIED CAT TROTTING IN THE MUSEUM.
Well whatever, forget about it.
Refined, attentive, and always ice-coldly cool, that’s what Atzamof was. This smug little bugger has been striding around the world since the last millennium.
He used to be something, but never in love.
A short story featuring a feline smug thug and a divorced historian striding around Cairo like it’s nobody’s business. Picture purrfect for laughter and fluff.
In the middle of the night
All light are Lucipurr
Tonight we sing in alexandrine
Stealing alexandrite in Alexandria
蓝月下午,月落城新月湖畔左岸的尖角坐落着前维图里亲王,现摄政长老征用的城堡。中世纪掺杂了法国哥特式的飘窗尖顶,文艺复兴时又委托博努内莱斯基拆了三角屋顶安上了拱顶。墙内墙外,处处都是对照,古朴又时兴,全然不调和的时代背景,硬生生被掺杂在一起,造成一种分裂而失真的景象。
Pocket guide to properly sell your soul to your friendly neighbourhood trader.
Instead of playing hide and seek with your demon, face him head-on, and waltz with him.
The elaborate fanfares of the games people play. People play with people, demon play with people, don’t play with your food.
Look out the window danced a monarch butterfly
She was the girl with haze in her hair
Leaning quietly on thin air
Walk on water in the rain
在这个商贸繁荣的时代林子大了什么鸟都有,行商脚夫零零散散地熟练忙着他们平常忙着的活计,时而好奇地大量着海平线上平稳驶来的异国涂漆三桅帆船。也就是片刻那商船徐徐靠岸,四五位旅者打著深色鲸骨伞款款而下。簇拥在中间的年轻洋人身著飘逸的青色丝绸长袍,暗金色的长髮在耳后鬆散地打著一个活结,脸上挂著几乎可以被称为温婉的笑意。他自己打著伞,金髮异瞳,却愣是透出一派君子如玉的气息。
Ocean reflection Atlantis connection
Glimmering sea
Over the seaside town
Memories rise and fade
Light on the table
Water on the clouds
Music in your eyes
You hear rose perfume
Lovely thorns, poppy, and peppercorn
I have seen where other people’s dreams
Cascading down quietly
In a waterfall near the sea
第二乐章流动着什么平静而柔软的东西。以赛亚手指停了下来静静凝神倾听,眼前拼接而成的是略微松开的领结,夕阳中逆光的优美侧影,音乐家的手。以赛亚还听到了更多,他懵懵懂懂,当时的感受并没有向许久之后回忆起来描述的那样清晰,但那股感觉根本层面上是类似的。
Heaven is a library
Hell is a flea market for antiques
Here is a landfill
Now we have everything
I’d rather just be a balcony hopping bird
Come to your window day to night to morn
Trotting and chirping by your window sill
Where I am, is where I want to be
女孩儿咬了咬因为忘记喝水有点儿破皮的丰满的嘴唇,转向走过克里特府昏暗的仿罗马式的拱形回廊,在仆人们因为母亲失态得无力主持大局呈无序状态,与侯爵尴尬地停在家族墓地的陵墓石头房里的状况——她多么想逃开这些,哪怕一会儿也好。
满目都是那种让人喘不过气来,空虚,冷清而浮华的景象。