二月看了 Tim Robinson : Connemara 这部纪录片。其中一幕令我印象深刻：他走在一片树林里，穿过倾斜、被青苔覆盖着的枝干，在隐约可闻的鸟鸣声中讲了一个故事： Fionn said to his friends: “What is the finest music in the world?” “The cuckoo calling from the highest tree,…

今天读到 London Book Review 上一篇反思 Meritocracy 的评论，联想到最近读的一些国内教育相关的新闻，有了一点点想法。 首先有关「阶级流动」这个概念（英文皆为引文）： The question about the direction of travel arises again with the closely linked notion – also a kind …

Not for that city of the level sun,     Its golden streets and glittering gates ablaze—     The shadeless, sleepless city of white days, White nights, or nights and days that are as one— We weary, wh…

Could such slow-paced wind measure the emptiness of space? Already the silent azure has cast down its white buildings, amid patches of shadow and sunlight resting on the ground, quiet and complete.

22.09.2019 在雨天让我唱一首奇异的歌 即使不被听见在无人的路 让我不再了解我的快乐 仅需柔软注意的倾注—

1. 当看不见的鸟儿开始歌唱 我写下已是黑暗的黄昏。 2. 以一个简单的词语开始，它即是此刻全部。 轻盈如终结后的沉默 却继续 像是恋人声音里，令人颤抖的犹豫