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| 图片取自 亚马逊 |
书店六点打烊，有时看得着迷，中川夫人也不会提醒，而是静静等待。你突破回过神，道歉不迭，她反而会安慰说，你多陪了我一会，我也不寂寞。该是谢谢你才对。这样温柔的心意，即便不为明确的目标找什么书，也愿意拐进来徜徉片刻。
≪京都古书店风景≫ 72页
苏枕书 著
ISBN 978-7-1011-1150-7
隨意翻開你手邊的一本書的任何一頁，
寫下映入眼簾的第一個句子，
或是寫下你正在閱讀的書籍的句子，
標上書名、ISBN和頁數，當作回應。
閱讀讓思想更有力量，我們一起來讀書。
~ 松露玫瑰 ~
寫下映入眼簾的第一個句子，
或是寫下你正在閱讀的書籍的句子，
標上書名、ISBN和頁數，當作回應。
閱讀讓思想更有力量，我們一起來讀書。
~ 松露玫瑰 ~
欢迎大家一起参与 周末读书天 My Weekend with Books 阅读分享，互相鼓励 :D >>［简介连接］>>
但是，高丽菜的世界中没有时间，当然也没有时钟更没有准时或迟到。没有一年级生、二年级生和三年级生，也没有第一学期、第二学期和第三学期，更没有暑假、寒假和春假，只有以自然现象为中心的状况变化，和肚子饿、想睡觉等身体的反应。
回复删除我在没有时钟的世界慢慢思考后，各种人类的规则都在内心瓦解。颜色、温度之类的尺度也和时间一样，其实根本不存在，都是人类靠自己的感受为它们所取的“名字”。
也就是说，从“人类以外的所有世界”的角度来看，一年、一天或是一秒都不存在，也没有蓝色、红色和黄色，体温和气温也不存在，只剩下下人类的感受而已，这些感受和猫完全没有关系。
但是，如果没有黄色或红色，猫就不觉得蒲公英很可爱，玫瑰很美丽吗?
≪如果这世界猫消失了≫ 177-178页
川村元气 著 王蕴洁 译
ISBN 978-957-10-6995-1
曾经有人说，时间并不是从过去向未来流动，而是从未来流向现在。至今为止的人生，是过去经过现在，像无限的未来前进。但是，当被告知自己的未来有限后，就觉得未来向我逼近。我走向已经决定的有限未来。
回复删除说起来很讽刺，我被宣告来日不多，又被丢进一个没有时间的世界，第一次用自己的一直注视未来。
脑袋右侧又开始隐隐作痛，呼吸越来越困难。
我还不想死，我想活下去。
明天，我又要让某样东西从世界消失。
为了自己的生命，从自己的未来中夺走某样东西。
≪如果这世界猫消失了≫ 184页
川村元气 著 王蕴洁 译
ISBN 978-957-10-6995-1
完美的遗传好的坏的一起来
回复删除我认识的朋友全都没资格当海盗，
他们坐船会吐，
淋雨会感冒，晒太阳会中暑，
在沙滩玩耍时担心海啸来袭，
在海里游泳时幻想鲨鱼攻击。
他们都是胆小鬼，胆小是一种遗传，
所以全都是爸爸妈妈害的啦……
≪我不是完美小孩≫ 88页
几米 作品
ISBN 978-7-5110-1956-1
The Delhi Press Club, Vijay's favored drinking joint, attracts a rather less exclusive crowd: Indian journalists, almost all of them male and as hard-drinking, chain-smoking, and cuss-mouthed as American newspapermen of the 1950s. They throng the bar in crumpled button-downs, tossing back whiskeys and handfuls of spicy fried Bombay mix, and trying to best one another with tales of political scandal. The place is windowless, run-down, and raucous, with TV sets blaring Hindi news channels. When I walked in, a half-beat of silence fell across the smoky room as a number of the men paused to take note of the unlikely sight of a feringhee girl in their midst. I was worth just that——a glance——before they returned to their stories.
回复删除I wandered outside to the patio and Vijay in the falling dusk. He was with the only other woman in the bar, whom I took to be Parvati. She was wearing a white salwar kameez, a wool shawl pulled around her shoulders against the late October chill. Her makeup was the traditional kind that Geeta disdained for Western-style colored eye shadow and lip gloss. For centuries, Indian women have lined their eyes with dramatic black kohl and painted a black or red bindi dot on their foreheads——women from upper-caste maharanis to 1930s Bollywood heroines. Parvati was dressed like a pious virgin, and yet, lined up on the table in front of her were a pack of Gold Flakes cigarettes, a bottle of soda water, and a shot of amber-colored whiskey.
Vijay introduced her with a grand sweep of his hand. She was one of Delhi's best political reporters and one of the few women who's been asked to join the press club, he boasted, then added, "She also really cares about issues, which is unusual among most of the journalist choots you see in here." Vijay's words slurred together boozily, and his English was peppered with Hindi profanities that he must have restrained himself from using during our interview; I soon learned that Hindi curses are an essential accessory among the Delhi Press Club set.
……
Sideways on A Scooter, Life and Love in India, P75~76
Miranda Kennedy
ISBN 978-1-4000-6786-2