nooks n' crannies
梦游者的故事
One. A little delight—I found it in the piano sonata an old man was playing in the midst of a busy square next to the astronomical clock. He laced fairy lights around his keys, and I wanted to tell him it was obstructing his playing. But the soft glow wrapping around his sinewy fingers was so beautiful; despite closing my eyes, the afterimage I saw was accompanied by a thousand tiny blue fireflies.
Two. Somewhere far away, there is a car speeding through a dark tunnel. The headlights are broken, and there is no way to see much of the road ahead. Next to me sits the personification of unease: a light peck on the lips, conveying memories of a story I do not know. I whisper to the driver to step on the gas pedal. He nods in response, and we race through astonished ghosts, who drop their picnic baskets in surprise. Three. She dances in the middle of a vacant living room. With all her belongings packed, the apartment never felt so strange as it did now. She wonders if the next family to live in this space will be a happy one, whether they will own a dog or like to eat a late breakfast on Sundays. Her Agumon stickers still remain on the left wall by the kitchen counter, and before she shuts the door behind her, she tells him not to miss her so much, for he, too, will forget her soon. |
boolean dream = null;
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