My head is directing me around, but it’s not having much success. Maybe I’ve had one too many pints. Or five. The world tilts like a carnival ride, and I clutch the lamppost like it’s the only thing keeping me from sliding into the gutter.[...]
吃完饭从餐馆回来的时候打开了一个很久以前的歌单，名字是“空灵”。[...]
"Look," Arthur repeated, "it's genuinely elegant. A win-win-win situation! Crystal clear." He ticked them off on his fingers, each point delivered with the serene certainty of a man explaining gravity to a feather:[...]
It was a good night, one of those rare windy evenings towards the end of summer and the start of fall.[...]