义乌迷宫里的回声
梅姐的铺子,与其说是店,不如说是一个微缩的热带雨林。各种塑料花、小摆件、节日饰品层层叠叠,从地面一直攀爬到天花板,几乎要将那盏接触不良、忽明忽灭的白炽灯也吞噬进去。空气里弥漫着塑料、胶水和一种难以名状的、属于“世界工厂”心脏地带的尘埃气味。梅姐就坐在这片“雨林”的中央,一台老旧的电脑屏幕映照着她略显疲惫但依旧精明的脸。
梅姐的铺子,与其说是店,不如说是一个微缩的热带雨林。各种塑料花、小摆件、节日饰品层层叠叠,从地面一直攀爬到天花板,几乎要将那盏接触不良、忽明忽灭的白炽灯也吞噬进去。空气里弥漫着塑料、胶水和一种难以名状的、属于“世界工厂”心脏地带的尘埃气味。梅姐就坐在这片“雨林”的中央,一台老旧的电脑屏幕映照着她略显疲惫但依旧精明的脸。
窗外的雨,淅淅沥沥,应和着清明这个时节特有的潮湿与沉郁。对王海来说,这雨声像是某种永恒的背景音,如同他身体内部器官运转时发出的沉闷轰鸣。
That swimming hall had been abandoned for a long time. Long enough for the notice posted by the city government on the faded iron gate to change from "Temporarily Closed for Electrical Maintenance" to "Structurally Unsafe, No Entry," and finally, to just a sheet of white paper, eroded by wind and rain until the characters were almost illegible, like a perfunctory band-aid unable to conceal the ever-thickening stillness within.
I don't know why, but I was always drawn to it. Especially after having exactly two glasses of whiskey on the rocks – no more, no less. The city felt like a giant, high-speed tumble dryer, jumbling everything dizzily. Only the swimming hall, like a forgotten sock in the corner of the machine, remained quietly curled up, exuding an almost stubborn scent, out of place with its surroundings. Not just mustiness, nor the lingering smell of chlorine, but more like... how to put it? Like the scent of time itself, settled, tinged with dust and the hopeless aroma of green algae.